If Only
by Liv Wilder
Summary: A 2x18 'Boom' fic. What if Kate's stay at Castle's loft had gone differently? "She can hear the sound of the tub filling already. His loft has excellent water pressure, naturally, evidenced by the thundering spray echoing throughout the tiled space, putting the drizzle from her own building's ancient, cranky plumbing to shame. Well, no need to worry about that anymore." COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1 - Ignorance

_**A/N: This is a birthday fic for my dear sweet friend BlueOrchid96. Her birthday isn't until Thursday, but I'm starting the drumroll today because she deserves a big build-up.**_

**_This 'what if' was a request from the birthday girl. It follows the explosion in Kate's apartment in season 2, ep. 18 'Boom', imagining how Kate staying at Castle's loft might have gone a little differently...if I'd been in charge and certain people's imagination had a say in events. ;)_**

* * *

_"Plays you like a fiddle  
Shakes you like a rattle  
Takes away your gun  
And sends you into battle  
Huffs and it puffs  
'Til it blows your house down  
And you don't know your heart  
From a hole in the ground_

_Stupid love is stupid_  
_Don't know why we always do it_  
_Finally find it just to lose it_  
_Always wind up looking stupid_  
_Stupid"_

**_- Kacey Musgraves, 'Stupid'_**

* * *

_**Chapter 1 – Ignorance**_

"Castle, I'm fine. Stop fussing," insists Kate, taking the canvas bag she just retrieved from her locker at the precinct from Castle's hand and then standing awkwardly in the entranceway to his loft with the bag bouncing off her shins.

Twenty-four hours ago her apartment exploded, Richard Castle rescued her from the rubble…_naked_. If her brain isn't functioning properly right now, she suspects his might not be either.

She has a meager selection of mismatched gym clothes she's not sure are even clean and some toiletries she really should have updated ages ago, a few items she managed to purchase this morning, as well as some stuff she borrowed from Lanie and that is it - the sum total of her life's possessions all in one small gym bag until she gets another chance to visit the scene and pick through the remain of her charred belongings.

"Do you wanna take a bath?" Castle asks, surprising her, more nervous than he usually appears, the cocky, joking, bantering man she knows so well left town for now.

"Is that a none-too-subtle hint?" she challenges back, half wary, half teasing, as she tries to lighten the atmosphere for both of them by pulling at the neck of the beige sweater she's wearing and giving it a sniff.

"Beckett, I'm just asking if you would like to take a bath. No subtext, I promise," he replies, holding his hands up to show he has no ulterior motive.

"Oh. Oh, right," she replies, a little embarrassed and a little disappointed at the same time.

Subtext sounds nice on occasion coming out of writer boy's mouth, and right now might just be one of those occasions. She has lost her home - her touchstone, her safe place, her sanctuary - and she needs normality…fast.

"You must have got pretty banged up leaping into the tub when that thing blew. I thought maybe a soak might help," he tells her, already walking away, dropping his coat onto a chair and then heading towards what she assumes must be his bedroom. "I have Arnica gel in here somewhere if you've bruised anything…and bath salts," he calls over his shoulder, and somehow none of this surprises her at all.

"Of course you do," she mutters to herself, looking around his loft space now that she is alone.

She's been here before of course, but always with the bustle of his family around them. It's beautiful – spacious, stylish and he has so many individual, quirky little items placed here and there that she wants to touch, to handle, to examine and ask questions about. So many curios and coffee table books, photo frames and objet d'art and…

"Beckett? You comin'?" he calls, suddenly reappearing with his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows, his muscular forearms bare.

Kate finds herself staring wordlessly at him, gaping like some brainless guppy for a few seconds, before managing to make a small grunting sound that she hopes he takes for a 'yes' as she follows him into his private space.

* * *

She can hear the sound of the tub filling already. His loft has excellent water pressure, naturally, evidenced by the thundering spray echoing throughout the tiled space, putting the drizzle from her own building's ancient, cranky plumbing to shame... Well, no need to worry about that anymore.

Kate stands by the bottom of his bed, staring up at the huge black and white photograph of a bull elephant that looks down from his bedroom wall. The image is oddly arousing in its blatant masculinity, and something about what it says about his bedroom is comforting too – that this is the domain of a male, untrammelled by feminine frippery. There are no perfume bottles on the dresser, no framed photographs of smiling, preening women, beyond one of Alexis and Castle, the little girl no more than six years old riding her daddy's shoulders. No, this space says 'single male'. The bedding and the décor: all rich, dark and rust-colored, the art saying the same. Kate feels at home here instantly, and that unsettles her - why she should think like that at all, why she should care if other women have shared this space with her tag-along shadow, now or in the past. She's upset, she's clinging to something familiar. That is _all_ this is, she tells herself. Nothing more.

Shock has woven a protective blanket around her, numbing her brain, deadening her reaction to the threat and the loss as effectively as any drugs. She feels as if she needs space and yet doesn't want to be alone. She can still feel Castle's arms around her as he helped her out of the tub and through the ruin and destruction of her burning home. She needs more touching and none at all. She doesn't know what she needs…she only suspects what she wants. And she's afraid of what she wants. She's so messed up she's worried it might be him.

"Do you want me to add some bath salts or do you prefer bubbles?" comes Castle's muffled question from behind the open bathroom door.

When Kate fails to answer immediately he reappears in the bedroom drying his hands on a towel, a concerned look on his face.

"Beckett? You okay?" he asks, moving closer to her, but thankfully not close enough to touch.

Kate nods, her eyes still darting around the room, giving her thoughts away to the writer instantly.

"Here. Let me take that?" he says gently, prising the bag from her frozen grip, her knuckles white where they are clamped tightly around the handles.

"Look, Beckett, I know this is…" he begins to say something like '_difficult'_, draping the towel over one shoulder in a casual way that makes her mouth go dry.

"No. No. It's fine. Honestly. Montgomery was right. I can take it from here," insists Kate, stopping him from opening up an emotional can of worms she's afraid to look inside for herself.

"If you're sure?" he asks, looking at her skeptically.

"I'm a big girl, Castle. I think I can manage a bath by myself…to _run_ a bath by myself," she clarifies, before he can jump in with anything close to a salacious remark.

But he doesn't even try to pick her up on her slip of the tongue. They're both obviously exhausted and emotionally wrung out. He returns the towel to the bathroom and then comes back out, ready to leave her to it.

"I'll be in the kitchen. There are fresh towels over there," he tells her, pointing to a shelf. "Soap, a new toothbrush in the cabinet… So…yeah, if you need anything else, just yell," he adds, stuffing one hand in his jeans pocket, before nodding wordlessly and backing out of the room.

* * *

Kate wanders into the bathroom, swirls one hand in the water to check the temperature and then closes the door behind her. Like his bedroom, everything is fitted out with a great eye for style, comfort and luxury. She begins to take off her clothing, dumping her jeans, sweater and shirt on a chair. Her mismatched sports bra and underwear are next. The pile is meager, depressing. She misses her collection of shoes and coats. And oh god, her scarves! She thinks she sounds pathetic. She swallows around the lump in her throat, blinks back the sting in her eyes.

Growing up, she was always one for experiences, valuing them over material possessions. But those experiences turned her into an eclectic scavenger of flea markets and brocante boutiques in the outskirts of Paris, an avid scourer of secondhand bookstores in whichever city she found herself, an amateur collector of object d'art and costume jewelry even when she had little cash to spare – all of that now gone. Only the remnants of fading memories left behind to cling onto. Even her father's watch is gone, lost to the explosion and hungry flames that followed when someone set out to kill her.

She steps into the bathtub, lets the hot water burn her feet and calves, resisting the urge to step back out until she can sink below the waterline, hissing as the heat seeps into her bones, reddens her skin and then finally becomes bearable. And it's like a metaphor for life's trials, she thinks – she has no home, no possessions, but eventually this will become bearable too. But for now she cries quietly in the echoing silence of Richard Castle's en suite bathroom. Her face is shiny with perspiration and tears as she bows her head over her knees, rocking back and forth to comfort herself. The water sloshes in the tub, and she shakes her head, cataloguing everything that is gone – her mom, her cherished family photographs, her books, mementos, clothing…

"Beckett?"

The quiet lapping of the water is broken by a gentle but insistent tapping on the bathroom door.

Kate freezes, sniffling. She grabs a towel, dislodging some water onto the floor. Maybe she was crying louder than she thought…

"Beckett, you okay? I'm coming in."

She barely has time to cover herself before the door is slowly opening.

"Castle," she chokes. "Seriously? Twice in one day?"

"I heard crying," he says, in his own defense, only one shoulder and one foot rounding the doorframe, his head still mercifully hidden.

"I'm fine. I didn't mean to disturb you. Please. Let me finish up in here and…"

She falters, the words stuck in her throat. This is bigger than lost things. Someone tried to kill her last night and…

"Beckett, you don't have to put on a front with me," he says quietly, calling her out on exactly what she's trying to do.

"What if I _need_ to put on a front?" Kate asks boldly.

If he can be honest then so can she.

"Why…why would you need to do that?"

"For _myself_," Kate answers simply. "It hurts less that way."

"No. Not less," Castle sighs. "Just...differently," he replies, surprising her a little with this insight. "But it also might help to talk about it."

"If I need a therapist, I'll let you know," snaps Kate, angrily swiping at another tear with the back of her hand, frustrated by her own weakness.

"I meant as a friend," he replies patiently, ignoring her barbed remark.

"Well, when I need another friend you'll be top of my list."

She drops back into the water at that, defeated by her own mean streak. He's been nothing but kind and hospitable to her. Hell, he probably saved her life and he certainly saved her dignity, getting her out of there before the fire crew arrived, and here she is repaying him for his kindness by snapping at him.

"I'm…Castle, look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Any of it," she laments.

"Why? Already got your own shrink?" he jokes, trying to ease her pain and guilt.

"How can you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Be nice to me all the time?"

She hears him shift slightly, the door creaking a little on its hinges as he holds onto the handle and moves from foot to foot before answering her question.

"I like you," he tells her simply, beginning to close the bathroom door again as soon as he's finished speaking.

"Castle, wait," she calls out, her faculties failing her once his head reappears, eyes trained faithfully on the tiled floor.

"Yes?"

"Sorry…I…nothing. It was…thank you," she stammers. "Thank you for letting me stay."

"Not a problem. Stay as long as you like."

* * *

_A/N: Chapter 2 will be up tomorrow. 'Birthday weeks' are getting to be more popular, and given my track record this might even turn into a 'birthday month'! ;)_


	2. Chapter 2 - Loss

_A/N: BlueOrchid96 Birthday week continues. Thanks for all the happy messages._

* * *

_"If you're ever gonna find a silver lining  
It's gotta be a cloudy day  
If you wanna fill your bottle up with lightning  
You're gonna have to stand in the rain  
_

_'Cause if you're ever gonna find  
A four leaf clover  
You gotta get a little dirt on your hands  
And if you wanna find a head  
That fits your shoulder  
You're gonna have to go to the dance"_

_- **Kacey Musgraves**, Silver Lining_

* * *

_**Chapter 2 – Loss**_

Kate soaks in the tub for ten more minutes, letting her head loll back against the padded headrest, her eyes closed, floating, until the water begins to cool and her guilt gets to be too much. She feels the pressure of Castle waiting for her somewhere out in the loft – he said kitchen, she vaguely seems to recall – and so she finally picks up the creamy bar of fine milled French soap he left out and begins to wash the lingering taint of grime away, the sooty charcoaled smell the precinct showers and cheap, department issue soap seemed inadequate to deal with.

She shampoos her hair, realizing with a startle that this is _him_ – the essence of Castle – that she can smell on her own skin; a scent so familiar that it's comforting rather than strange. Though she has to admit that the familiarity and the intimacy of having it coat her own body is disturbingly arousing.

_I like you._

She tries to downplay the feelings this sudden proximity and the patience and care he's been showing her are dragging to the surface. He's being a grown-up for a change, daddy Castle, Mr. Responsible, and that's the version of him that she finds most difficult to deal with, is most drawn to, intrigued by and the hardest to resist.

She feels herself flush with a pleasant warmth as she rinses out the suds, coating her shoulder length hair in his silky conditioner, massaging it all the way to the ends with care, before rinsing it away and rising from the tub to towel off.

Water droplets careen down her stomach and limbs when she stands, and she briefly observes her own naked body in the full length mirror and crystal clear illumination of Castle's spotlit bathroom. Giving herself a critical once-over, she finds herself wondering what he would think if he saw this - her - immediately feeling her face pink in shame when the thought sharpens from hazy, right hemisphere daydream to conscious left brain thought.

_What the hell is she doing?_

She wraps a small towel around her hair, dries the worst of the water off her skin and then pads out to the bedroom, wrapped in a bath towel, in search of some clean underwear from her gym bag.

* * *

"Oh, jeez, _Castle!_" she yelps, wrapping the towel tighter around her body when she steps into his bedroom and finds him lying on the bed in semi-darkness, his eyes closed, napping it would seem, but also evidently waiting for her.

He sits up hurriedly, his gaze leveled at her chest and the crude twist of toweling she has gathered between her breasts.

"Up here, buddy," she instructs, flicking her free hand upwards to get him to look at her face rather than her bare shoulders and hastily concealed cleavage.

"Sorry," he stammers, meeting her eyes for only a brief second before they slide away again to skate down her neck, trace the distinct lines of her clavicle, the curve of her shoulders and the beads of water traversing the downward slope of her arm, helpless to resist looking, no matter that she might hurt him for defying her.

He rises off the bed, his gaze trailing up along her bare legs now, and Kate swallows thickly, trying to get her own suddenly racing heart under control. She's in his bedroom, naked beneath a towel, she's vulnerable after today…hell, they both are and she knows it. His shouts of 'Kate' when he entered her apartment, the desperation and fear she heard in his voice – she knows all too clearly what that meant, how he feels about her, about almost losing her. That's why he's lying in the dark outside the door like a guard dog while she takes a bath, that's why he insisted to her Captain that she stay here in his home…

_I like you._

* * *

"I _am_ fine, you know," she tells him quietly, trying to encapsulate so much in a bare few words.

"I…I know," he replies, his voice so much higher and tighter than normal, betraying the fact that he doesn't really believe that she's fine at all, and even if _she_ is _he_ certainly isn't.

"Castle, I'm still here," she tries, hoping he'll look at her properly and see what she means by that.

"Yes, I can see that," he says, only he takes the most literal meaning from her statement, staring intently at her, all sense of the propriety they usually adhere to completely abandoned.

He unconsciously licks his lips as he watches a droplet of water fall from her elbow and splash onto the wooden floor.

"Please…" Kate finds herself almost begging, when he takes another couple of steps towards her, "…stop," she asks him, looking down at her own bare feet, and then off to the side at her gym bag, which is suddenly too far away for her to move towards, since it lies closer to Castle than she can cope with right now.

The air is thick with tension. It's a cliché, but all too true. He's within touching distance now and the way he's looking at her…

"Castle…" she croaks, stopping when she has no idea what should be coming out of her mouth next.

They just stand there, staring at one another, not moving any closer, but not retreating either, neither of them having any idea what to say or do next.

Kate feels ridiculously exposed. She's never had a problem with her body, she's not a prude, but standing here in her shadow's bedroom wearing only a towel…

"You need to…um…" she mumbles, gesturing at her gym bag weakly and hating herself for interrupting whatever this is they're both indulging in.

"Right," says Castle, seeming to snap out of his own trance, faintly flushing when he realizes how openly he's been staring at her. "Sorry. What do you need?"

"My uh…"

She can't tell him she needs to find some underwear, since that'll only make matters worse. So she gestures for her bag again.

"Right. Your bag. Do you have…I mean, if you need to borrow some clothes…I have t-shirts and sweats. I know you're not exactly…well, we're different sizes obviously, but… Oh, and Alexis," he exclaims nervously. "She'll have stuff you can wear. What do you need?" he asks, all enthusiastic puppy again, eager to play fetch for her if it'll get him out of looking like he wants to devour her with his mouth, his tongue and his teeth right here on the spot.

"I have enough to last until tomorrow. If I can use your laundry…?" she asks, embarrassed by this domestic scene they find themselves thrust in the middle of.

"Just give me whatever needs laundered and I'll see to it," he offers, and it's natural and unselfconscious coming from him. He means nothing more than to be practical, a good host. But Kate feels herself prickle at the thought of him doing these things for her, robbing her of her independence and her place in the normal hierarchy of their relationship.

"Castle, I can do my own laundry," Kate insists, tetchily.

"I know you can. I just want to help. You've been through a lot, Beckett. It's okay to accept a help when it's offered," he tells her, irking her with his patience and his kindness, but hating herself more for being so resistant and unreasonable towards him.

The man infuriates her at times with his persistence and his easy charm, and she hates herself for feeling things, _any_ things, towards him. But he wears her down, and she knows for a fact that it wouldn't take a lot for her to just drop this goddam towel and jump him right here.

"Hamper's over there," he tells her, pointing to a dark brown leather laundry hamper in the corner and inadvertently saving her at the same time. "Drop your stuff in and I'll sort through it later. Promise not to mix your whites in with the colors," he jokes, finally handing her the bag.

"I'll go check on dinner," he adds, when she stands there awkwardly holding her own paltry possessions between them like a shield, his bath towel still clutched to her chest. "Come out when you're ready."

"Thanks," she says, watching him walk towards the door.

"Hairdryer's in the cabinet under the vanity," he adds, as an afterthought.

"Right," nods Kate, something inside of her wanting to ask him just to stay, to keep her company. The more reserved side wins, however, and she stands silently by while he leaves the room.

* * *

She sinks down onto the ottoman at the bottom of his bed and drops her head into her hands. Her shoulders start to shake from exhaustion and disappointment. She can't figure out why she wants this all of a sudden. Is it a reaffirmation of life she's looking for? Because having sex with Richard Castle just to make herself feel better would be an utterly selfish thing to do; a really terrible idea. She knows he's attracted to her, but she vowed a long time ago not to use that to her own advantage in any way. She can't start something tonight that she has no hope of finishing. Especially with everything that's going on with the case.

So she fights down the well of need gripping her insides and she pulls on some clothes, making her way back into the bathroom to quickly blow-dry her hair.

Her face in the mirror looks tired, but softened by the lack of make-up. She roughly runs her fingers through her hair to style it, giving up with a sigh when she can't make it do what she wants. She's not big on vanity usually, but tonight…_he's_ out there making dinner for them. She has to sleep under his roof. Her heart is thumping and her hands are shaking by the time she gives herself a final harsh once over in the mirror and leaves the safety of the bathroom to confront her romantic demons.

"My god, don't you ever knock?" she exclaims, when she walks out of the bathroom and runs straight into the arms of Richard Castle.

* * *

_A/N: Don't yell at me for the cliffhanger. More tomorrow guys and gals. Liv :)_


	3. Chapter 3 - Denial

_**A/N: *sings* "Happy Birthday to you!" Feel free to join in because today is BlueOrchid96's actual birthday. Hope you have a great day, kiddo. x **_

* * *

_"Got the sunshine on my shoulders  
Got a fistful of four leaf clovers  
Yeah my cup runneth over  
My sky is blue  
Been kissed by Lady Luck,  
The stars are all lined up,  
Every arrow that I aim is true  
But I miss you."_

_**- Kacey Musgraves**, 'I Miss You'_

* * *

_**Chapter 3 – Denial**_

_Previously..._

_"My god, don't you ever knock?" Kate exclaims, when she walks out of the bathroom and runs straight into the arms of Richard Castle..._

* * *

He catches her when she barrels into him, holding her close enough that the knot she tied in the front of her oversized t-shirt brushes up against the front of his shirt.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. But this _is_ kind of my house," he points out, still holding her upper arms with his large, but gentle hands to steady her.

Kate can feel the warmth of his breath washing over her face when he speaks and she shivers, the fine hairs on the back of her neck rising along with an instantaneous tightening of her nipples. She's mortified but daren't look down to check if anything is visible through her bra and t-shirt, since she risks alerting Castle to the very thing she'd be trying to conceal if she does.

"You can let me go now," she finally finds the words to say, when he makes no move to stop holding her up.

Castle drops his hands, his face betraying a hint of disappointment when he takes a half step back away from her.

"Dinner's ready," he says, clearing his throat when she stares at the fancy apron he's wearing over his clothes, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips for the first time since she arrived at the loft. "That's what I was coming to tell you."

"So I see," smirks Kate, biting her cheek to keep from laughing at the sight of the well-built writer wearing a frilly little polka-dot number.

"Mother's," he shrugs, unbothered by her amusement, as he jerks his head towards the door, secure enough in his own masculinity not to care, she realizes, and this actually impresses her a little. "Hope you're hungry," he adds, his hand a warm, welcome presence against the small of her back as he guides her out of the bedroom.

Kate laughs, and then she realizes he's talking about their food, and she seriously does need to eat something since she's clearly on the verge of becoming delirious.

"You should smile more often, Beckett," he tells her easily, as they head out into the living room. "You have a beautiful smile."

_I like you._

* * *

Dinner is fresh pasta served with a green salad, and it's artfully done, made with care, full of flavor and the perfect comfort food for the way Kate is feeling tonight. But then he knows her, better than she thought, she realizes, choosing something for them to eat tonight that will help sooth her and make her feel at home.

"You up for a little wine?" Castle asks, waving a bottle of red from behind the counter.

"Mmm, why not," replies Kate, sinking back in her chair. "My apartment was blown up, almost taking me with it. What's the worst that can happen? You get me drunk and…"

She grinds to a verbal halt, whipping the napkin off the table and shaking it out across her lap in an attempt to deflect from her abandoned remark.

"I get you drunk_ and_…?" pushes Castle, his turn to smirk knowingly.

"_And_…are you pouring that stuff or waiting for it to ferment some more?" she counters, trying to recover her composure.

Castle lets her off the hook this time, and Kate watches him closely, a little surprised that he does, as he fusses around her - serving wine, bringing out a warm basket of garlic bread, and then finally producing two bowls of steaming hot pasta.

Kate serves up the salad onto two individual plates, helping herself to bread, and then she sits back to wait for her host.

"Dig in," encourages Castle, with a wave of his hand as he skirts the table on the way back to the refrigerator to collect a pitcher of water. "Don't wait for me."

Kate waits regardless, pulling apart a soft piece of baguette, feeling her stomach begin to rumble as soon as the garlic butter coats her lips.

"_Mmm!_" she moans, licking her lips. "Castle, this is _good_. What did you put on top?"

"Just chopped garlic, melted butter, a little garlic salt and parmesan," he shrugs, as if it's nothing.

He takes a seat at the head of the table, sitting closer to her than being on the opposite side would allow. But it's casual, rather than intimidating or stifling, since there are only two of them tonight.

"Please, eat," he says, touching her elbow, before shaking out his own napkin and spreading it on his lap. "Don't let it get cold."

* * *

They eat quietly for a few minutes, lost in thought, and it's nice, a different pace for them than the cut and thrust of the precinct or the endless mental demands of bantering with the boys.

"More wine?" asks Castle, topping up Kate's glass before she barely has time to nod her approval.

"You _are_ trying to get me drunk, Mr. Castle," she laughs, feeling looser and more at ease than she's felt all day.

"And what if I am?" he challenges back boldly, clinking his wine glass against hers.

"If you…?" stammers Kate, wiping her lips with her napkin, her eyes growing wide. They like to joke around, play with words, with innuendo and subtext. But this is getting a little closer to home than they normally get, a little bolder, given the intimate surroundings, the home cooked meal, the time of day, their…_aloneness_.

"If I get you drunk. What happens then, Beckett?" he pushes, his blue eyes flashing, kindness and humor sparkling in their oceanic depths.

When his foot nudges hers under the table, she physically jumps. She seriously thought she was the only one having…_issues_ with their proximity tonight. Dense, Beckett, she thinks. But other than that her mind is blank, she has no quippy rejoinder to make, no snippy putdown to force him back into his box.

"Cat got your tongue, Detective?" he teases a little smugly, forking a mouthful of salad, so at ease and in control here on his own turf.

"You seriously want me to answer that?" asks Kate, trying to muster her scary Beckett face and failing miserably if Castle's cocky smile is anything to go by.

"That's usually the way Q&A's work," he bats back.

"Q&A's? What? Are you interrogating me now? Because I thought we were having a nice leisurely dinner."

"Oh, we are," he says assuredly, grinning. "Doesn't mean we can't engage in a little…_challenging_ dinner conversation."

"Your idea of challenging dinner conversation is to ask me what happens if you get me drunk?" asks Kate witheringly. "Is this a frat party or a dinner party?"

"Neither. It's a…a _Castle party_," he declares, proudly.

Kate bursts out laughing at the serious look on his face, which quickly turns to wounded when confronted with her mocking amusement.

"A _Castle_ party?" she laughs, taking another healthy mouthful of wine. "And what might that entail?"

"_This_," he says, as if it should be obvious, sweeping his hand out to indicate the food and drink on the table.

"_This?_ Uh-huh," nods Kate, still smiling. "You, me and a bowl of quite delicious pasta. Is that what you're saying?"

"What's wrong with that?" asks Castle, sounding almost hurt.

"Oh, nothing. It's…_perfect_. Suits me. I just thought that a '_Castle Party'_," she mocks, adding air quotes for extra emphasis, "might involve…oh, I don't know, say naked dancing girls, Tequila shots, groupies, those tiny little canapé things with shrimp and puff pastry…"

"Hate those," says Castle, shaking his head distastefully at her last suggestion and then grinning at how silly she's being.

Kate smiles at how silly they're both being and how easy it feels to be like this with him tonight after everything they've been through.

"Well, if this is a Castle party," she says, trying to make her face a little less goofy, "then I'm glad that I'm on the guest list," she tells him sincerely, raising her wine glass to toast him.

Castle puts down his fork and pauses to look straight at her, his gaze soft, no hint of teasing in his expression.

"Beckett, I don't know if you've noticed, but you _are_ the guest list," he quietly points out, and Kate's heart begins to race at the sincerity and candor in his eyes.

But before things can get out of hand, he turns to glance over each shoulder with a theatrical sweep of the room as if checking for other people.

Kate gulps down some more wine and then turns her attention back to the remaining food on her plate. She could have kissed him so easily right then. Just leaned in a fraction. Their elbows are already touching, his foot keeps grazing hers, his knee seems magnetically attracted to her thigh…

"Are you done? Or would you like a second helping?" he asks, startling her out of her panic when he rises from the table with his own plate in hand.

"I…uh…no, that was lovely. Really, really lovely. But I couldn't eat another thing," she tells him hurriedly, feeling her face flushing pink without her permission at the impure thoughts she keeps having.

She doesn't want tonight to be over, but she's afraid of what happens next if she lets herself off the leash.

"Great. Well, I will see to these. Go make yourself comfortable. Remote is on the coffee table," he tells her, pointing towards the sofa before gathering up their dishes and turning towards the kitchen.

"_No!_" exclaims Kate, louder than she means to, freezing Castle in his tracks.

"No?" he asks, turning back around, puzzled. "You _do_ want more?"

"No. No, I meant let me help you with the dishes."

"Beckett, you're a guest…"

But Kate cuts him off.

"If you want me to stay here, Castle, you'll let me help you with the chores. Otherwise…" she threatens, with her hands on her hips, leaving the rest dangling in midair.

"Okay. But only since I don't like '_otherwise'_," he smiles, indicating for her to follow him to the kitchen.

* * *

They start to clear up together, and though the task is mundane, Kate can feel her body singing at the very nearness of the writer as they go about these unfamiliar roles. He washes and she dries, they bump shoulders and hips occasionally as they work around the kitchen putting things away.

When Castle drops an ovenproof dish into the sink and yelps in pain, sloshing soapy water onto the counter, Kate is instantly by his side to find out what's wrong.

"Did you burn yourself?" she asks, taking hold of his wrist without a second thought to examine his hand.

"No," he shakes his head, allowing her to turn his hand over in hers to check it out. "No, I think I strained it."

"Strained how? Making pasta," scoffs Kate.

"No. Carrying you out of your apartment," he confesses reluctantly, shaking his head and rolling his eyes in self-reproach.

"And you're just saying something _now_?" she asks, incredulous. "Castle, why didn't you let the paramedics check you over?"

"It's just a strain. I didn't want to look…" he shrugs and tries to withdraw his hand from her grasp.

"Less heroic?" suggests Kate, with wry smile.

He had picked her up, _actually picked her up_ and carried her out of the building after helping her limp towards the exit, quickly discovering that what was left of the floor was too littered with glass, shrapnel and her smouldering belongings to make it safe to walk across in bare feet. Kate could still feel the sensation of weightlessness when he scooped her up, ignoring her protests and maintaining a firm grip on her all the way down the stairs. He was her hero in every sense that night, the handsome prince straight out of the storybook. It made her blush just to think about it - how weak and helpless she must have looked; like some homeless orphan in an outsize man's coat sitting barefoot and sooty in the back of the ambulance, while he paced outside like a concerned spouse outside a delivery room.

"You know, there are times when I don't like how well you know me," he tells her, looking down fondly at their joined hands. "You never let me get away with anything, Beckett," he grumbles, looking sheepish and quite adorable.

"Someone has to keep your ego in check," she mutters, gently pressing around the fine bones of his fingers for any signs of a fracture or break.

"And you figure that someone should be you?" asks Castle, startling her into stillness with this intimate question.

"I…uh…don't bullshit a bullshitter, Castle," she throws back at him, trying to recover her composure.

"You're not a bullshitter, Kate," he says, freezing her again with his use of her first name.

"Takes one to know one," she parries back.

"Then I guess we're both off the hook," he tells her, wiggling his fingers to loosen her grip on his hand.

"Oh! Sorry," mumbles Kate, her fingers feeling as if they've suddenly been scorched just by touching him.

"So, what's the prognosis, Nurse Beckett?" he teases, leering down at her ever so slightly.

"Nurse Beckett?" repeats Kate, arching an eyebrow. "This another one of your fantasies, Castle?"

"Actually, in _my_ fantasy that would be _Doctor_ Castle. Why? Is it one of yours too?" he smirks.

"_One_ of?" asks Kate, feeling herself so easily being drawn into flirting with him.

She could tell herself it's the wine talking, but she knows that it's not. It's just…_him_. All him. Okay, and maybe a lot her too. She needs to take some responsibility here.

"You think I have a plethora of fantasies about you?" she asks, trying to be clever back.

And this is taking responsibility, her brain screams inside.

"Plethora. Nice word choice, Beckett. But I just meant your fantasies in general. However, now that you've just revealed that I feature in a sizable quantity of them…" he smirks, a 'gotcha' look on his face.

"Oh, no!" declares Kate, shaking her head emphatically. "You are _not_ getting away with that," she declares.

"You going to stop me?" he asks, playfully snatching the kitchen towel she had draped over her shoulder and then flicking it at her butt.

When he yelps again from the pain in his hand, Kate takes hold of his arm and then removes the kitchen towel from his grip, dumping it on the countertop.

"Why don't I take a look at that strain? I'm no nurse, but I'm pretty good at hand massages…_if_ you think you're brave enough, _Doctor_?" she mocks.

Castle considers her offer for a second, and Kate is about to back down, thinking maybe she's just made things uncomfortable for both of them by overstepping, when he speaks again.

"Please, lead the way," he tells her, gesturing back towards his bedroom and the en suite beyond. "I place myself entirely in your capable hands."

* * *

_A/N: Birthday fic day 4 tomorrow, technology allowing (I'm in London now). Hope you're still enjoying going back in time before Caskett got together. Liv_


	4. Chapter 4 -Progress

_A/N: Day 4 of our little retro Caskett adventure. Thank you for the lovely reviews. Really appreciate the feedback. _

* * *

_"Picked you out and picked you up_

_Hoping that my luck would change_

_I let the summer fill my lungs_

_And superstition fill my brain_

_Dandelion_

_A million little wishes float across the sky_

_But it's a waste of breath and it's a waste of time I know_

_Cause just like him, you always leave me cryin' dandelion"_

_- **Kacey** **Musgraves**, Dandelion_

* * *

_**Chapter 4 – Progress**_

The bathroom is well lit. Perhaps a little too well lit, thinks Kate, considering. Considering this is them. But then more intimate lighting or candles would just be…

"_So_…you've done this before?" asks Castle, interrupting her scattered train of thought.

"I…uh…do you have any lotion?" Kate asks, instead of answering his question. "Or massage oil?"

"_Massage oil_?" squeaks Castle, emitting a nervous laugh.

"Look, if you're not going to take this seriously…" says Kate, hands on her hips.

"No. No, I…_deadly_ serious," nods Castle, straightening his face. "Kate Beckett offers you a hand massage…"

Kate glares at him some more.

"There's a bottle of lotion on the top shelf of the cabinet," he tells her hurriedly, adding apropos nothing, "Which I bought for myself, I hasten to add."

"_Because_…?" asks Kate, lifting down the elegantly packaged bottle of expensive, Jo Malone Lime & Basil hand lotion.

"Because I liked the scent and I happen to think that smooth hands are an important part of good grooming, especially when I have signings to do. People notice that sort of thi…"

"I meant, why are you telling me you bought it for yourself?" corrects Kate, biting her cheek to keep from laughing at him and the deeply personal information he just inadvertently revealed.

"Oh. I just…I didn't want you to think that it was left over from some other wo… You know what, I'm just going to shut up now," he says, wisely.

Kate smirks at the hole he's dug for himself, but finds that she's actually surprisingly pleased that he did buy the damn lotion for himself.

* * *

"Sit," she instructs, pressing down on his shoulders to get him to settle on the closed toilet seat.

She spreads a towel out across his lap and lays his hand on top. Then she pumps a generous amount of the creamy lotion out into her own palm and kneels down in front of him.

"One word," she warns sternly, when he goes to open his mouth to make some wisecrack once she's kneeling before him.

He closes it instantly, doing a good impression of a goldfish.

When he opens it again to speak, a devilish glint in his eye, she adds, "I mean it, Castle. You make fun and I stop. Understand?"

He nods vigorously, fighting down a moan of pleasure when she takes his hand in both of hers, slathering the cool lotion across his palm to begin with.

"And not a word to anyone at the precinct either," she adds for good measure.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he says, watching her movements intently.

"If the boys got wind…" Kate mutters, concentrating on what she's doing.

"Understood. Street cred down the drain," he adds, catching her eye when she raises her gaze to meet his.

"Exactly," she replies warily, wondering if he's being sincere or mocking her.

* * *

Kate begins the massage by holding his arm in place with one hand loosely grasped around his, while she works the lotion into his hand and all the way up to his elbow. Then she reverses the position of her hands and repeats her movements all over again until the lotion is fully blended into his skin, leaving just a sheen on the surface to reduce friction.

The bathroom is so quiet, only the sound of their breathing can be heard while Kate works. It's disturbingly intimate, she finds, trying to keep her mind focused soley on the task in hand and not allowing it to dwell for any longer than necessary on the firmness of Castle's muscles moving beneath her fingers.

She continues to hold his arm, using her free hand in a gentle squeezing motion to tease the muscles from the wrist to just beneath the elbow. Repeating the same movements with the positioning of her hands reversed once she's worked down one side.

"You're really good at this," observes Castle, watching the care she's taking over every little movement. "Where'd you learn? Beauty school?" he smirks, earning himself a narrow eyed glare from the woman currently kneeling in front of him.

"Seriously?" asks Kate, dryly.

"I just…" he shrugs.

"You just _what_?" asks Kate, as she begins to lightly brush her thumb over the back of his hand, working up towards his wrist.

"...thought maybe I'd uncovered another layer of the Beckett onion," he replies, cursing his own stupid mouth, Kate suspects, from the cringing look on his face.

"Hey, take it as a compliment," he tells her. "Some of those women are _seriously _good with their…hands…" he says, trailing off, realizing he's said too much as usual.

"I'm not even going to ask how you would know that," replies Kate, not even looking up.

"Okay. So, I've had a few massages in my time," he confesses. "Therapeutic _sports_ massages," he clarifies, sounding just a little like he's protesting too much.

She ignores his remark for a second, concentrating on increasing the pressure to his hand as she sweeps her thumb towards his wrist.

* * *

"My grandmother," she says eventually, breaking the heavy silence.

"Your grandmother taught you to do this?" squeaks Castle, evidently finding it a more sensual experience than Kate intended, though she couldn't swear to not feeling the same right now if questioned in a court of law.

"No. She had arthritis. I used to visit her in the nursing home. One of the OT's showed me how to give her a hand massage to ease the pain in her joints. She liked to be touched," adds Kate, quietly.

"She's not the only one," blurts Castle, his eyes widening in horror once the unfiltered words have popped out of his mouth.

Kate pauses what she's doing for a second to look up at him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I'll shut up now. Please, don't stop?"

Kate doesn't respond one way or the other. She just resumes working on the back of his hand, adding pressure with her fingertips between the bones at the back of his wrist, finally working to loosen his lymphatic system via the veins at the base of his wrist.

She continues to support his hand in her left one, while she begins to work on each finger individually, beginning with his pinkie. She massages the finger then gives it a gentle twist in both directions, before giving it a quick pull to finish and moving onto the next one.

"Any pain?" she asks, glancing up to check for his answer.

But he seems mesmerized by what she's doing to him, this touching so far beyond the physical boundaries they normally keep in place.

"_Castle?_" she prompts to get his attention.

"Uh…sorry? You were saying?"

"Are you feeling any pain?" she repeats, patiently.

"No. Not yet. I think it's my thumb," he tells her, flexing his hand into a fist, so that she lets go of him completely to give him the freedom to move his fingers and test for pain.

"Sorry," he apologizes, looking mildly panicked. "Here," he adds, thrusting his hand back into hers, not wanting her to stop touching him.

"Turn over," instructs Kate, gently rotating his wrist and then resting the back of his hand on the towel.

"You're…you're not stopping?" he asks, the panic now in his voice too.

"We need more lotion," she tells him calmly, reaching up for the bottle and dispensing more of the fragrant unguent into her own palm.

"Oh. Oh, right," he says dumbly, and she can hear the relief in his voice and see it in the relaxed slump of his shoulders.

When they progressed to this – needing and wanting to touch – she's shocked to discover she has no idea. Before yesterday, the very thought of such intimacies would have remained strictly locked up inside her own head, in so much as they appeared at all.

* * *

Kate sweeps more lotion over Castle's palm and up across the soft underside of his arm again, gliding smoothly over the pale, hairless skin. Then she begins to focus on the base of his thumb, applying pressure around that area in particular, gently at first and then with more force when she sees that he can take it.

"Ah, yes. Right there," he tells her suddenly.

"Painful?"

He nods, listening to his own body for a second.

"Too painful? You want me to stop?" asks Kate, stilling her movement, her fingers still cradling his hand.

"No. Tight, like a cramp that needs worked out."

"Okay. If you're sure? Stop me if it gets to be too much," she warns him.

She devotes some attention to the center of his palm and the fleshy, muscular part of his thumb, having now established that this seems to be where most of the pain is coming from. She sweeps her own thumb from his wrist down into his palm, working the area around his lifeline. Then she positions her hands either side of his, using her fingers to support his hand by hooking them in between the little and ring fingers on the right, and the thumb and forefinger on the left. She then uses her thumbs to gently massage the base of Castle's palm while it lies cradled in her own.

Her knees are beginning to ache, and she's brutally aware of the stillness between them. The banter has stopped, and she can feel Castle watching her intently. The sensation is making her warm; being so steeped in his gaze. She knows he likes to watch her; he's been doing so for over a year and a half now, but never like this – so quietly, intimately and for so long, and never while she touches him.

She's nearly done, and she actually thinks about calling it a day right here, so intense is the silence that she's worried he might hear her heart racing.

"This is definitely helping," he tells her, letting the weight of his hand rest fully in hers, and so she resolves to finish what she started.

She uses her left hand to steady Castle's arm at the wrist. Then she interlocks her other hand with his by lacing their fingers together before rotating her left hand to massage his wrist joint. Then she moves alternately in both directions and ends by pulling gently towards her own body, stretching out the long bones of his arm and the finer ones at his wrist to ease any cramping.

His fingertips brush up against her stomach and she blinks rapidly at the ticklish sensation that sends sparks of pleasure throughout her body. She risks a glance at Castle, and, though he mercifully doesn't say anything, she can tell he feels it too.

She quickly finishes up by stroking firmly down his arm and hand in one long continuous motion all the way to his fingers, before gently letting go.

* * *

"All done," she says, forcing the cheerful efficient tone of a professional into her voice to try to keep the intimacy of the moment to a minimum.

Castle sits back. Appearing to come out of some kind of trance, he flexes his fingers and makes a fist again, testing out his hand now that the massage is over.

"Feel okay?" asks Kate, taking the towel from his lap and drying her hands with it.

"Better than okay. You're a miracle worker," he grins. "If the whole Homicide Detective thing doesn't work out, you know you could always…"

"Castle," warns Kate, with an indulgent grin.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist," he says, rising to help her up off her knees.

Kate stumbles a little as she tries to stand, and once again Castle catches her, his hands landing on her waist this time.

The air goes stiflinglyly still, heavy and fragrant with the sharp zesty lime of the lotion and the remnants of the fresh soapy scent and steamy heat from Kate's recent bath. She feels breathless and dizzy and her heart is pounding loud enough to be audible, she's sure this time.

Castle's fingers flex on her waist, gripping and releasing over and over in time with her heart. She doesn't know what to do with her own hands. He's so close and so…_him_ and she really shouldn't.

_I_ _like you. _

* * *

"Kate?" he says, breaking the silent spell that's fallen over them.

Her eyes dart up to meet his at the sound of her name, flicking to his lips and then back up again. He's watching her with so much want in his eyes, so much naked desire she's never witnessed from him before.

"Castle," she swallows, her left hand making its own way to rest on his forearm, the other one finding a fistful of his shirt. "Castle, what are we doing?" she whispers, feeling her knees begin to tremble, feeling breathless, as if she's just been punched in the gut.

"Whatever you want," he tells her seriously.

"What do _you_ want?" she finds herself asking, losing all sense of self-control.

"You need to ask?" he croaks, throatily, his eyes roaming over her face, devouring every inch of her while he can; while she's this close and not threatening him with violence.

Kate watches his throat bob when he swallows, feels the heat from his body leeching into her skin and she just wants to lean into him, let him wrap his arms around her and absorb her into the shelter of his large, comforting frame. She has no home. But this man stepped up to offer her one. He rescued her from a burning building…should she even be questioning why she wants this anymore? Does she need anymore proof of his devotion, his loyalty, his…?

_I like you._

* * *

When her lips meet his it's electric; a gentle exploration for all of seconds, and then they are both overtaken by pure, animal lust. Kate's eyes are closed, but she can hear Castle's ragged breathing, feel his hands on her body, his fingers gripping her, desperately clawing to bring her closer.

"Oh god," she curses, swaying when his mouth leaves hers and his lips brush her neck.

He sucks lightly on her skin, then licks a swathe all the way down her throat, his day old stubble grazing across sensitive flesh and sending a shower of sparks behind her eyes and down her spine, leaving her weak and clinging to him just to stay upright.

"You sure about this?" he pants eventually, seconds after he slams her up against the bathroom door, their bodies writhing together in desperate search of pleasure.

"No. Are you?" she laughs shakily, pulling back to look at him.

"If you're not sure we have to stop, Kate," he tells her, planting his hands firmly on her hips to still her frantic movements, holding her at arms length.

"I…" she whines with indecision, hating herself for stopping him. "I just…I didn't expect…" she shrugs, indicating between them with her hand.

"No. Neither did I, I swear," he tells her earnestly.

"I know. Don't…" she shakes her head, licking her kiss-swollen lips.

"Don't what?" asks Castle, a painful hope in his voice.

"Don't stop," she gasps, surprising even herself. "Please…Castle, don't stop?" she begs him, tugging him closer with her hands at his back, desperate to feel his weight pressing up against her once more.

"Are you sure, Kate? I don't…" he hesitates, resisting her unexpected encouragement.

"Don't you want to?" she asks, confused, all of a sudden doubting his desire for her, for this.

"Oh, god. _No_. Of course I want you. No, that's not the problem. Kate, you're vulnerable. You've been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you and ruin what we have."

"And what exactly _do_ we have?" asks Kate, staring at the floor, feeling rejected despite his words.

"A friendship. A really _good_ friendship"

Kate snorts, letting her hands fall from his body to hang limply by her sides as she leans back against the bathroom door, finally crossing them over her chest in a self-protecting move.

"A friendship. I see," she nods, laughing bitterly and then looking away, anywhere but at him.

"No. No, I don't think you do," he insists, determinedly.

"Then why don't you explain what I'm missing," she hisses, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.

"Every other woman I've ever been with, I screwed things up by being impatient, charming my way to what I wanted before I got to know them and they got to know me. Things are different with you and me. We've taken our time. Become friends…"

"Yeah," laughs Kate bitterly, "friends. You said that already."

"You're not listening to me," he insists, grabbing ahold of one wrist.

Kate finally goes silent and forces her eyes up to meet his.

"If I screw this up, I lose out on the most important friendship of my life. I want you, Kate, _so badly_. But I'd rather have you in my life than in my bed for a few brief hours and then lose you altogether."

Kate is startled by Castle's honesty, his calmness and sincerity in the face of her wounded acting out and his own desire. She can see the point he's making – that he's not rejecting her, he needs her for more than just sex, and that takes her breath away.

"Why can't we have both?" she asks, laying one hand flat on his chest, allowing the fingers of her other hand to hook into his belt, tugging lightly. "Tell me why we can't have both?"

Castle shakes his head.

"Kate," he says reluctantly, "I'd like nothing more. But…"

"Then kiss me," she whispers, stretching up on tiptoe to gently meet his lips with her own.

* * *

_A/N: Tomorrow's post may be delayed by vacation intervention. But I'll do my best. Thank you for the feedback. It is fun to revisit this time again. Liv_


	5. Chapter 5 - Seal The Deal

_A/N: Apologies for the delayed update. Hopefully the length of this chapter will make up for it._

_Change of rating to M for this part of the story for adult themes and language._

* * *

_"Maybe I love you,_

_Maybe I'm just kind of bored,_

_It is what it is_

_Till it ain't_

_Anymore"_

_**- Kacey Musgraves**, It Is What It Is_

* * *

**_Chapter 5 – Seal The Deal_**

_Previously..._

_"If I screw this up, I lose out on the most important friendship of my life. I want you, Kate, so badly. But I'd rather have you in my life than in my bed for a few brief hours and then lose you altogether."_

_Kate is startled by Castle's honesty, his calmness and sincerity in the face of her wounded acting out and his own desire. She can see the point he's making – that he's not rejecting her, he needs her for more than just sex, and that takes her breath away._

_"Why can't we have both?" she asks, laying one hand flat on his chest, allowing the fingers of her other hand to hook into his belt, tugging lightly. "Tell me why we can't have both?"_

_Castle shakes his head._

_"Kate," he says reluctantly, "I'd like nothing more. But…"_

_"Then kiss me," she whispers, stretching up on tiptoe to gently meet his lips with her own..._

* * *

He gives in the second her lips touch his and he clings to her.

Kate whimpers this time, while Castle moans softly as they kiss so slowly and sensually, taking the longest, sweetest time to explore one another. Her tongue curls out to part his lips on a deep sigh of pleasure. He presses her back against the door, his arms sliding around her back to hold her to him. Kate is in heaven, floating, no need for oxygen or anything else. It feels surreal, so unexpected, but right at this moment she's startled to discover that she only wants him, and more than she ever thought possible.

When Castle's cell phone starts to ring they both startle violently, as if someone had just walked in and caught them making out.

"Are you going to answer that? Could be Alexis," suggests Kate, when she gets her wits back, sliding her arms down from around his neck, coming to rest the flat of her palms against his chest, not ready to let go of him just yet in case the moment passes completely.

"Good point," he concedes, fishing the phone out of his pants pocket with a frustrated sigh and a frown.

"Castle," he answers brusquely, slipping his hand into the small of Kate's back and tugging her up against him with a lazy, possessive smile.

She can feel his heart beating every time he takes a breath in and his ribcage expands to press against her sternum. Her throat feels tight and she desperately wants whoever is on the phone to get off fast so that she can kiss him again, as if they've unstoppered the magic bottle and let some crazy, reckless genie out to play.

"Jordan? I mean, Special Agent Shaw," he corrects himself, watching as Kate rolls her eyes and then tries to pull away from him.

But he traps her between his own body and the door while he continues the call, bracing one hand flat on the wood right by her waist when she tries to squirm past him, blocking her exit.

He leans down to kiss her neck and she relaxes a little, gripping his upper arms to keep herself upright when her eyes drift closed and she shudders bodily at the mind blowing sensation of his mouth on her skin, all while desperately trying not to make a sound.

"Detective Beckett is off the case, yes, I know," he says, shrugging when Kate gives him a look. "I was there when you…"

Jordan interrupts him, and Kate can her the tinny commanding staccato of her bossy, rather nasal voice coming through the phone's speaker.

"I will tell her when I see her. Oh, he did already? Yes, Captain Montgomery can be very helpful like that," winces Castle. "That's correct, she _is_ staying with me. Sleeping right now…upstairs in the guest room, uh-huh," he lies, cringing at being caught out. "Not a problem. Feel free to call anytime, Jordan. Always happy to help the FBI," he says smoothly, yelping a little at the end of the call when Kate pinches his nipple through his shirt.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he squeaks, rubbing the tender spot, after double-checking he ended the call properly.

"'_Anytime, Jordan'_" she singsongs, mimicking Castle's voice.

"Why don't you like her?"

"I don't _not _like her," grumbles Kate, embarrassed to be revealing this ugly, jealous side she's discovered seems to appear whenever Special Agent Shaw is concerned.

"Then what is it?" he asks, clueless. "I don't understand."

Kate run a hand through her hair in frustration, biting her lower lip for a second before she launches herself at him.

"You're _mine_," she growls, spinning them round until he's the one with his back slammed up against the door.

Castle's eyes startle wide, and then a feral grin appears on his face.

"Hey, no arguments here," he tells her, delighted by this surprising possessive streak.

He grasps her hips tightly and then moves even closer, forcing his thigh between her legs.

"Do you think we can take this to bed?" pants Kate, breathlessly, when his thumb brushes one nipple and she shivers in pleasure.

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

He picks her up and Kate laughs in surprise, instinctively wrapping her legs around Castle's waist to hold on. She leans down to kiss him again as they stumble round the bathroom door, giggling when he ricochets off the doorjamb and almost takes them both down.

"Might want to put me down, macho man, so we make it in one piece," suggests Kate, her arms still tightly wrapped around his neck.

"True," he hums in agreement. "Explaining broken limbs after you came here to stay safe might be a little tricky," he concedes, placing her gently back on the floor by the foot of the bed.

They stand facing one another, a sudden wave of awkwardness coming over them again now that the initial tide of impulsive, reckless passion has swept through.

"You're sure about this?" asks Castle, giving her one last out, as he places his hands on her shoulders and tilts his head to look at her.

"Don't ask me that again," says Kate determinedly. "Don't. I…I know you're only trying to be a gentleman, Castle. But, I think we both know what we want. Don't we?" she says, biting her lip nervously, but stepping in closer to him at the same time, so far over the line now she's past thinking clearly.

* * *

Her fingers alight on the top button of his shirt and then begin to work their magic, one tiny button at a time.

Castle stands still, allowing her to undress him. Kate glances up to check he's still breathing after a second or two of deadly silence, since he's barely moving at all.

"Relax," she whispers, kissing the smooth, bare skin she's just exposed on his chest, her lips widening into a smile.

"Kind of hard to relax when…"

Kate stops what she's doing and looks up at him, the question in her eyes.

"When what?" she asks, giving him a gentle, encouraging nod.

"When…" he sighs, "…I thought you'd gone."

"Gone? Gone where?" she asks, frowning. "I'm right here."

Castle levels her with a serious look, fingering a lock of her hair before running a hand down her arm and then squeezing her hand.

"When that explosion went off. I thought I was too late. I thought…I thought that your apartment had blown up with you inside and I'd lost you," he whispers, hating that he's bringing something so heavy to their first time, but unable to stop himself since they haven't got around to talking about any of this yet.

"Oh. That," says Kate, nodding in understanding. "Well, I am very much alive, in case you hadn't noticed. But I understand that you may need some additional proof," she grins, deftly beginning to work on his belt buckle. "Let's see if I can't give you some," she winks, popping the buttons on his pants, smiling at the satisfying sigh the writer emits.

* * *

When Kate lifts her shirt over her head, Castle's hands are on her before her face even clears the hem, his fingers running up and down her sides, strumming her ribcage like she's some perfect, priceless musical instrument.

"I'm…I'm kind of limited in the lingerie department right now since I lost all my clothes in that explosion," she gets out, when he slides one strap down her arm, freeing her right breast from the simple cotton bra she's wearing, immediately taking her nipple into his mouth and beginning to suck rhythmically then swirl sinfully with his tongue, the intense sensation almost undoing her. "I wasn't exactly expecting…oh god," she cries, clutching at his back, "…to be doing this…Jeez, Castle," she moans, rocking into him, "…with you…_at all_."

"Looks perfect to me," he murmurs, around her dampened, puckered nipple.

"Liar," she laughs, running her hands through his hair, as his head remains bowed over her, now working on her other breast attentively.

"Then let's just get rid of this," he decides, unfastening the clasp at the back of her bra with one hand, the other fully absorbed cupping the soft, firm weight of her right breast, his thumb playing ceaselessly with her pebbled nipple.

The simple piece of white cotton falls to the floor with a muffled thud, joining her pale blue shirt in a growing heap around their feet.

They haven't made it beyond the bottom of the bed yet, the rest of their clothing still half-on-half-off.

"Your turn," says Kate, dragging Castle up from his worship of her breasts to kiss him soundly on the mouth, before she starts to slide the open front of his shirt down over his well-muscled shoulders.

The cuffs are rolled up to his elbows, and it takes a tug or two before Kate manages to free him from his shirt entirely, dropping his clothing on top of her own with a satisfied grin.

"Better?" he asks, watching her with some pride as she smoothes her hands up across his stomach, over his well-defined pectorals, and then up to his shoulders, fingers walking around behind his neck to draw him closer once more.

She looks thrilled with her new toy, and Castle feels himself responding with some urgency to her unguarded admiration for his body.

"Much," she nods, teasing his lips apart with a light brush of her own, before meeting him in a bruising, hungry kiss.

* * *

The sensation of skin on naked skin for the first time is electrifying. Kate's hands start to roam the muscled landscape of his back, while her hips begin a sensual dance as she brushes up against him over and over again, a sharp ache building low down in her core when she feels the growing firmness of his arousal pushing up against her thigh.

"We're really doing this," she breathes, arching into him again, her fingers tightening needfully on his shoulder blades.

She has no idea what comes next for them, only that right now she needs this man more than she's ever needed anyone…wants him in every way.

"Dammit, I hope so," laughs Castle a little nervously, watching her writhe against him with something close to awe. "God, you're so sexy," he growls, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her over to the bed.

"Did you ever think…" he begins to say, but Kate silences him with a finger to his kiss-swollen lips.

"Castle, stop talking," she tells him, beginning to focus on his pants once more, or getting him out of his pants to be more precise.

Kate strips him naked with such care and diligence that it leaves Castle standing like a helpless child in his own bedroom, watching as she sees to the remainder of her own clothes. Once they are both naked, she takes a second or two just to look at him, the normally ebullient writer appearing bashful and at a loss for words under her scorching gaze, before he halts her close scrutiny with the dip of his head and the reverent press of his lips against hers.

They sway together for a second, suspended amid a welter of overwhelming sensations, feelings and questions neither of them voice. Then Kate takes his hand and guides it to her entrance, the fingers of his other hand tightly gripping her hip, and she slowly begins to coast over his rigid digits, throwing her head back and closing her eyes while they both moan aloud - he at how wet, ready and eager she is to be touched so intimately, and she at the fabulous friction his stroking creates, the suddenness of which quickly brings her close to the edge.

_I like you._

* * *

When Castle says her name, just once, she looks up at him and silently nods in agreement, and when they fall to the bed he braces himself above her just briefly before he enters her, accompanied by a shuddered, guttural exclamation of shock and desire, his face a mask of ecstacy and extreme concentration that makes Kate's heart race.

She shivers, gripping tightly to his shoulders when he pushes all the way up inside of her with a pain that is sweet torture. She uses a nudge of her own hips to encourage Castle to move when he stills within her, displaying a hesitation that looks born of disbelief. She stirs him to action with the grip of her muscles and a spreading of her legs that has him cursing and swallowing hard and finally, _finally_ finding a rhythm that satisfies her, while he frantically tries to hold himself back.

Her nails dig into the muscular flesh of his back, slipping lower to cup his buttocks as she races them towards the finishing line in a frenzy of bucking, thrusting, desperate needy fucking. She's soon out of breath, hot, flushed and seriously turned on. It's been a long time and let's face it, this is him - virgin territory for Kate - sex for the first time with the focus of so many of her late night fantasies while she lay in bed alone, taking care of business by herself. She's not going to last much longer tonight.

"Hey. Hey, slow down," Castle tells her more than once, hauling her up onto his chest to make eye contact, his fingers trailing lazy, sensual patterns over her skin, his eyes boring into hers in a way that makes her heart stutter as he slows them down to a more sensual pace. Because it's all there to see, everything he's laying out for her. One look at his face and she's right back in the seconds after that explosion, hearing him rampage through her apartment desperately calling out her name.

He's trying to make love to her Kate realizes with alarm that hits her like a train. All the corroborating evidence she needs is there, bagged, tagged and presented with startling clarity. It's in every reverent touch, every tender kiss, the quiet intensity of his movements, the whispered words her writes against her superheated flesh, the gentle graze of his chin against her cheekbone when he kisses the damp skin at her temple, the silky path his fingers find through her hair, the way he cups the back of her head as if she is as fragile as a newborn.

_He's making love to her._

She rails against this overwhelming intimacy, tries to distract him, devastate him, over-excite him with the twist of her hips, the hungry thrust of her tongue into his mouth, the desperate grip of her fingers on his shoulders and sharp dig of her nails into his buttocks when she urges him on to powerful thrusts and dirty curses, arching her hips into his over and over, until he forgets to feel with his heart and lets his body take over, finally climaxing together seconds later.

* * *

When they fall apart, shattered to pieces by each other's hand, breathing heavily, he looks almost disappointed, forlorn, maybe even a little ashamed of himself for giving in so completely to this surge of uncontrolled lust.

Kate averts her eyes, tugging the sheet up over her chest to cover her nakedness.

Castle turns towards her, his head propped up on one hand as he lies on his side, watching her quietly. He places one warm, heavy palm on her stomach, but quickly withdraws it when she smiles a little wanly and tugs at the sheet once more, warning him off without uttering a word.

"Want to talk about it?" he asks, his face betraying the growing, gnawing fear that she is starting to regret what they've just done.

"No," says Kate, strain creeping into the light tone she tries to use when she answers him.

"Are you sure because…"

"_Castle!_ Do we have to talk about everything?" she snaps, before frowning and shaking her head.

She reaches over and squeezes his forearm by way of an apology, before instantly letting go of him again and moving back into her own space.

"But that's just the point," he tells her, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. "We don't talk about anything…_ever._"

"We talk. We talk all the time," insists Kate. "In fact I've spent the last year and a half trying to get you to shut up," she jokes, trying to lighten things up between them before this discussion gets awkward or out of hand.

"I'm not talking about cases or theories, victims and perps, Kate. We _never_ talk about this…about _us, _about what I hope is happening with us."

"Yeah, well, maybe it's better that way," mumbles Kate, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

"Better? Better for whom?" asks Castle, throwing her a look, utterly perplexed by this new change in her.

"And last time I checked there _was_ no us," she adds, completely ignoring his question.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," says Castle sarcastically, hurt clearly evident in his voice, "you sleep with guys at the drop of a hat and it never means a thing to you," he spits out, instantly hating himself for these untrue, hateful words.

"Yeah, and they're not usually this big of a jerk right after. That usually takes a few days," she hisses, getting up out of bed suddenly.

She finds her clothes in a pile on the floor and quickly pulls them on, hiding her hurt and embarrassment in her anger.

"Kate," sighs Castle, sitting up in bed. "I'm sorry. I'm an ass. Okay? Where are you going? Come on. Come back to bed. Let's talk about this?"

"There is nothing to talk about. Absolutely nothing. We made a mistake. It's that simple. With the explosion and everything…we got confused, let our feelings run away with themselves. We were both out of line. Let's just forget tonight ever happened."

"Kate, please. Don't do this," begs Castle, his voice pitched low and reasonable in an attempt to get her to stay and talk things over.

"I assume the offer of your guest room is still on the table. If not, I can always go find a motel for the night. Either way, I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow. Then things can just go back to the way they were before. If you can do that, then so can I."

Castle is stunned. He can't believe that the woman who was writhing passionately beneath him, completely letting go all of minutes ago, behaving as if she couldn't get enough of him, is suddenly treating him as if he means no more to her than his doorman.

"If that's what you want," he finds himself saying, watching her back out of the room, her fingers gripping the doorjamb just before she leaves his bedroom.

"It's for the best," she insists. "Good night," she adds, raising her hand in a half wave right before she turns away and pads out into the living room, leaving Castle alone in bed with his head in his hands.

* * *

_A/N: Ooops, I did it again! Will try not to keep you hanging too long. Thoughts?_


	6. Chapter 6 - What Just Happened

_A/N: Apologies for the delay. A massive thank you for the amazing number of reviews to the last chapter – even if some of them did threaten violence. ;) _

_This chapter takes up the story from Castle's point of view._

* * *

"_Gotten too far off the map_

_Not so sure I can get back._

_Was I the one who drifted off?_

_Did I take advantage of good love?_

_'Cause I swear I did everything I could've done_

_But what good is love_

_Without the trust?_

_Does anybody wanna_

_Put me back, put me back_

_On the map_

_I'd read all about it_

_I'd do anything, anything_

_That you asked"_

_**-Kacey Musgraves**__, "Back On The Map"_

* * *

_**Chapter 6 – What Just Happened**_

_Previously..._

_"Kate," sighs Castle, sitting up in bed. "I'm sorry. I'm an ass. Okay? Where are you going? Come on. Come back to bed. Let's talk about this?"_

_"There is nothing to talk about. Absolutely nothing. We made a mistake. It's that simple. With the explosion and everything…we got confused, let our feelings run away with themselves. We were both out of line. Let's just forget tonight ever happened."_

_"Kate, please. Don't do this," begs Castle, his voice pitched low and reasonable in an attempt to get her to stay and talk things over._

_"I assume the offer of your guest room is still on the table. If not, I can always go find a motel for the night. Either way, I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow. Then things can just go back to the way they were before. If you can do that, then so can I."_

_Castle is stunned. He can't believe that the woman who was writhing passionately beneath him, completely letting go all of minutes ago, behaving as if she couldn't get enough of him, is suddenly treating him as if he means no more to her than his doorman._

_"If that's what you want," he finds himself saying, watching her back out of the room, her fingers gripping the doorjamb just before she leaves his bedroom._

_"It's for the best," she insists. "Good night," she adds, raising her hand in a half wave right before she turns away and pads out into the living room, leaving Castle alone in bed with his head in his hands._

* * *

Once she is gone, Castle sits frozen in bed, shocked, feeling as if he has just been hit by a freight train. No, scratch that. Knocked onto the tracks by a 700lb grizzly bear and _then_ hit by a passing freight train. His chest feels tight, his heart is racing and the sinking feeling in his gut is making him nauseous.

'_What the hell just happened?'_ is all he can think, all he keeps repeating on a torturous loop inside his head.

He takes a deep breath, drawing his knees up towards him as he replays the evening over and over again, right from walking in his front door with Beckett and her pitiful bag of belongings, remembering with a sharp ache the delicious tension between them, the flash points, her tears while she sat alone in his tub, her refusal of help and then the gradual softening over dinner, how relaxed she had seemed with him then. They had laughed together, teased one another, flirted a little.

The concern she showed for his injured hand and her offer of a hand massage had come out of the blue. Her skill at delivering the massage had surprised him completely, as had the depth of feeling for her that it had drawn out of him - being that close to her, lingering inside each other's personal space in a way they never had before, being touched so tenderly by her for such an extended period, watching her work on him, getting a rare chance to drink her in. The heat between them had been undeniable, sexual. But it had turned out to be a disastrously erotic experience that had led him to let his guard down, to let his thinking shift just a fraction, from friendship to the forbidden, self-imposed exile he had placed himself under, far away from anything romantic where she was concerned. He had let his feelings get the better of him and now he was paying the price for that loss of vigilance and self-control.

But dammit, he had stopped her several times, checked with her that this was what she wanted, told her _no_ even. He had reined in his own urge to have her, his desperate drive to claim her after coveting her for over a year and a half of watching her, wondering what she did at night, was she alone on the weekends, wishing he could ask her out, held back by the deep-held belief that she'd only knock him back, never feeling good enough for the super smart, sexy, endlessly intelligent, empathetic, beautiful, but ultimately damaged lady detective.

* * *

He suspected he could love her, might already be _in love_ with her. He was certainly infatuated, weak where she was concerned. Following her had long moved past being about interesting cases, police procedure, that up close and personal ringside seat he had chased in the beginning to add color and authenticity to his writing; if indeed it had _ever_ been about that. She filled his head when he wasn't around her, she even filled his dreams some nights.

Someone in the city died by someone else's hand and he got to spend time with the object of his obsession. How sick was that? But he had lost sight of how grizzly that made their tenuous deal. _Deal?_ Who was he kidding? He had forced himself on her with the help of the Mayor, just as surely as if he had forced himself on her tonight. Only he hadn't, had he? He needed to get a grip, get some perspective. This wasn't his fault, other than that he should never have given in to her in the first place.

'_Why can't we have both?'_ she had asked him, drawing him closer.

'_You're mine,'_ she had declared, revealing a jealous, possessive streak he thought she'd rather die than ever expose to him.

Damn his own weakness and her complexity. His instincts had been good on this one and he'd ignored them, taken a chance that the voice in his head was wrong and the woman in his arms was being honest and truthful when she'd said they could still be friends and have more than that.

The way she had touched him, undressed him, her fierce, claiming kisses, the greedy sweep of her hands over his body, and god, the way she had stared at him when they were both finally naked…like she only wanted him, as if he were all her fantasies come true. Well, either she was one hell of an actress or…

* * *

A light tap on his bedroom door interrupts his sorrowful trip down memory lane. He rushes to straighten the covers over his lap, his heart soaring in hope at the faint possibility this is her, come back to apologize and make peace and ask can they please start over since she just made the biggest mistake of her life.

"Dad?"

But it's Alexis' head that pops around the bedroom door and he hates himself for being disappointed that the visitor is his own daughter. He flushes guiltily realizing she must have come home without him even noticing. He wonders if she heard anything, can't think straight enough to remember if they were loud or not.

"I heard crying coming from Detective Beckett's room. I just thought you should know."

"Oh. Okay, thanks, pumpkin," he says, not making any move to get out of bed until she leaves.

"Is she okay? You guys didn't have a fight, did you?" she asks, looking at her dad as if she might be able to read his mind.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, sweetie. She's been through a lot, what with the explosion and everything. She just lost her home. So she's a little upset, understandably. I'll check in on her later," he promises, when Alexis hovers as if she has more to say. "Thanks for telling me."

"Good. Because now gran's gone, I kind of like the idea of having her here. Do you think she'll stay long?" the girl asks hopefully, and Castle's heart sinks. "Good apartments in Manhattan are hard to find unless you're super rich, aren't they? So it might take a while for her to find somewhere," she logics.

"I'm not sure, Alexis. Detective Beckett's a pretty independent person. I imagine she'll want to find her own place soon. But we'll see," he tells her, trying to placate them both.

According to Beckett she's leaving tomorrow. But Alexis doesn't need to know that yet at the risk of him having to explain the reason for the speedy departure of their houseguest.

"Okay. Night, Dad. See you in the morning."

"Night, pumpkin. Sleep well."

* * *

He waits until Alexis is gone and then he goes to the bathroom to clean up, throws on some sweats and a t-shirt, and returns to his bedroom to pace.

He needs to figure out what to do. How to handle this so that he doesn't makes things worse and lose her for good? She said things could go back to normal, that tonight was a mistake and they can just forget it ever happened. But if he's certain about one thing in this whole mess, it's that he knows he can't forget it, doesn't _want_ to forget it, and after tonight, he's having a seriously hard time trusting anything Kate has to say.

She's upstairs alone and she's crying. Kate Beckett is crying, loud enough for his daughter to hear. But crying over him, over them, over her destroyed home, her dead mother or the fact that someone is out there trying to kill her? It seems she has a lot to cry about. So where to begin unraveling that lot? He cannot afford to make another mistake here.

He gets a sharp, high definition picture of her in his head just before they made love – how she took his hand and guided him to touch her. God, the thrill of that moment: her face so serene and confident when she gave herself to him; as if she knew exactly what she was doing, exactly what she wanted. He almost forgot to breathe. The feel of her – so ready for him – her need, her desire to have him; she couldn't have faked any of that surely. So how the hell did he end up here, _alone_, with the scent of her coating his skin, looking at a cold, empty bed immediately after their first time?

This is a new record in relationship failure even for him.

He's pretty sure it wasn't about the sex – he'd always known that they would be great together, and in truth it was even better than he'd anticipated. But she had rushed him along when he had wanted to take his time, enjoy her, worship that amazing body, savor every inch of her, take her to new heights and make it last as long as possible, desperate to hear her cry out his name, cling to him and then beg for release.

Why? Why had she done that, and why had she shut down right after?

He thinks about what he expected to come afterwards, and then realizes he had no time to anticipate or fantasize about that at all, so sudden were tonight's developments. Did he hope to hold her, to kiss her, to whisper sweet nothings into her hair and fall asleep with her in his arms, only wake up with her crawling over him, eager to make love to him again, to make plans with him, to…_what, exactly?_

He walks to the bed to check the time and then he punches a pillow hard, cursing when is hand cramps up and pain shoots up his arm.

* * *

He's climbing the stairs to the upper level before he can stop himself, before he can assess if this is yet another bad idea, heaped on top of all the others he's already had tonight.

When he stands outside the door to the guest room listening, no sound is coming from inside and he thinks that maybe she's sleeping now, all cried out. But as he turns to leave, he hears a muffled sniffle and the creak of body weight being shifted on the rarely used mattress, and so he raises his hand to reach for the door handle, squeezes and turns it, swallowing thickly as he does so, before he can decide to back down.

The knuckles of his right hand rap lightly on the doorframe, while he softly calls her name.

Here goes nothing…

* * *

_A/N: Another cliffhanger, I know. But it was getting long and the next chapter will switch back to Kate's point of view. Hope you're still with me._


	7. Chapter 7 - Reasoning

_A/N: So some people seem to hate cliffhangers. And I don't mean the people who beg for a quick update – y'all are funny. I mean those who think it's a cheap ploy to keep readers coming back to a story. Too bad I'm afraid. Cliffhangers allow the story to be paused at a point of drama, as you would for a commercial break on TV, and give the author time to go and deal with real life or change the story's point of view as in this case. It's not like you have to wait months for an update. It's hours or a few days at most. _

_Thank you for all the encouragement from the happy band of campers who're keen to continue with this S2 AU. I hope you like the next bit too. We switch back to Kate's point of view in this chapter._

* * *

"_You turn on the light_

_Then you turn it back off_

_'Cause sleeping alone, yeah it ain't what you thought_

_It's the drip of the sink_

_It's the click of the clock_

_And you're wondering if I'm sleeping"_

_"So keep it to yourself_

_If you think that you still love me_

_Put it on a shelf_

_If you're looking for someone_

_Make it someone else_

_When you're drunk_

_And it's late_

_And you're missing me like hell_

_Keep it to yourself"_

_**-Kacey Musgraves**__, "Keep It To Yourself"_

* * *

_**Chapter 7 – Reasoning **_

Kate sniffs and then stiffens, her knees pulled up almost under her chin as she sits on the queen bed in Castle's guest room listening for a repeat of what she could almost swear was the sound of her own name.

"Kate?" he calls again, and, yes, that's it, definitely him.

"Kate, can I come in?" asks Castle, pushing the door open slowly before she has time to answer one way or the other.

Always pushing, pushing his way into her life.

She doesn't reply, just blinks and squints a little in the sudden influx of light flowing in from the hallway, watching his large frame fill the door space and throwing a long dark shadow out across the bedroom floor that oddly makes it easier to see. She feels her skin start to prickle as she watches his familiar movements, maps the outline of his powerful body, and remembers with a sharp pang what they did to one another earlier tonight, how much she wanted him, ached to have him. She can smell him still on her own skin and that knowledge, the evidence of their intimacy, makes her flush.

* * *

"You okay?" he asks, peering at her in the gloom of the darkened bedroom.

There is a small pile of discarded tissues littering the comforter, scrunched up like snowballs – if Kleenex made snowballs – that make denying her upset verging from futile to insane. So she bites her lip and screws up another wad of tissue and flings it angrily towards the bottom of the bed, attack her best line of defense evidently.

"Been lurking outside the door listening?" she snaps, swiping at the remaining tears dampening her cheeks with a quiet fury. "I know this is your house, Castle, but I was still expecting a modicum of privacy," she adds tartly.

"No," replies Castle, with a steady, level patience that is the mark of the man. "Alexis heard you," he tells her without sugar coating, watching with bitter satisfaction when she startles and shrinks back a little, her defiant posture losing some of its sharp lines when diluted by her shame.

"Oh," is all she can think to reply, dropping her head to stare in embarrassment at her knees, balling up a handful of duvet cover in one fist as if to tether herself to the bed. "I'm sorry. She shouldn't have heard that. I didn't mean to drag her into the middle of this…"

"Kate, we need to talk," interrupts Castle, feeling more in control now that he's here in front of her and can see how upset she looks; that she at least feels something. Whatever it is that has taken the wind out of her sails suddenly makes him feel less afraid about confronting her.

"Castle…" she says quietly, shaking her head. "It's late. I meant what I said. Just forget about it. We can get past this."

"You mean like you've forgotten all about it?" he points out, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe, his presence large and looming in the entryway to the guestroom, while he surveys the wreckage of paper tissues scattered across the duvet like an array of fluffy white clouds viewed from an airplane.

Kate gapes at him, left speechless by his challenging tone and forthright question. They don't do this – talk honestly with one another. They avoid, they obfuscate, they dance around stuff until they can waltz right past it as if it is no more substantial than a ghostly apparition or a puff of smoke.

"And you're right – it _is_ late. But do you think either of us are going to get any sleep tonight if we _don't_ talk about what just happened?" he pushes.

"I don't want to," insists Kate, shaking her head.

"Yeah, I get that," he says coldly, making Kate flinch. "But _I_ need to," he maintains strongly. "I think you can give me that much."

"Why?" she asks, anger rising to the surface again at being cornered like this. "Because I'm staying in your home? Therefore I _owe_ you? Is that it?"

"No. Because you _asked_ for what happened tonight even when I told you _no _more than once, Kate. And…and I just need to understand what the hell happened. _After_," he adds, scrubbing a hand down over his face, rasping the dark growth that covers his jawline and then rubbing at his tired, itchy eyes.

He looks like a pent up ball of energy, anger and frustration. Kate has rarely, if ever, seen him so worked up.

"Look, Castle…" she begins, quietly, more considerately, trying to placate him.

"Not here," he jumps in, interrupting her with a shake of his head. "Alexis. I don't want her to hear any of this. With her grandmother gone, she was looking forward to having you stay with us. I don't want her knowing why you're leaving so soon."

Kate just stares at him and then nods slowly, chastened by this mention of his daughter.

"Then…?" she raises her shoulders in a questioning gesture.

"Downstairs," he replies, turning his back on her without waiting to see if she gets up to follow _him_ for a change.

* * *

He heads straight for the kitchen and fills the kettle. They're having tea apparently, whether she likes _that_ or not either. Talking and drinking tea. Great.

Kate sits at the counter, the sleeves of her sweatshirt pulled down over her hands, and she slumps a little, like some recalcitrant teen about to face the wrath of a stern parent, one foot drawn up onto the stool, her chin resting on her knee. She watches him move with quiet efficiency around his own kitchen, opening cabinets, lifting down mugs, the flex of his shoulders, the strength in his arms, and she feels ashamed for coveting him this way, after rejecting him so soundly tonight.

"Lemon?" asks Castle, while dumping a steaming teabag in the trash.

"Eh, no thanks. Just the tea is fine," she replies, feeling all kinds of awkward about this.

'Morning after's are supposed to be awkward, especially that first morning after. But this…this is just torture. The 'immediately after', without the prospect of more sex and maybe a little breakfast in bed. She's never stormed out on anyone after sex before, and certainly with nowhere else to go but another room in the same house. Her plan, such as she had one (she didn't), was badly thought out, she concedes to herself.

And now Kate's afraid of what Castle is going to ask her, since he appears to have found his big boy pants tonight. The prospect of sweeping this fiasco under the proverbial rug and just carrying on like before, until they can look one another in the eye at the precinct without cringing, is fast disappearing. She just hopes he knows what he's doing and doesn't wreck what salvageable friendship they have left in the process. She wants his friendship at least, even if she's forfeited her right to anything more.

* * *

When the tea is ready he picks up both mugs and heads back towards his bedroom.

"Whoa. Where are you going?" asks Kate, swiveling on her stool.

He swings round and gives her a frown.

"Bedroom," he whisper-hisses, jerking his head in that direction. "Too cold out here."

"Eh, I'm just fine right here," she lies, her feet already turning a nice shade of purplish-blue.

"Well, I'm not and Alexis is a light sleeper," insists Castle, padding off towards his bedroom with both mugs of tea.

"_Shit!_" swears Kate under her breath, slapping her knee in frustration.

She thinks she prefers him as he usually is – slightly more deferential and following _her_ around - instead of this manly, commanding version of Castle, no matter how hot seeing him in charge might be.

When he doesn't reappear, she stiffly gets to her feet, shaking her head at what she's about to do – return to the scene of the crime. She mutters to herself as she reluctantly makes the walk of shame _back_ to his bedroom - the setting for her most recent romantic disaster.

When she enters, Castle is busily straightening up the comforter and plumping pillows with all the practiced skill of a five star chambermaid. If he weren't being so deadly serious about talking this through and they weren't in such a god-awful mess right now, she would laugh at his metrosexual behavior. Instead, she stands by the foot of his bed resisting the urge to run back upstairs and pack her little bag before heading out into the night in her bare feet. She's shaking and they haven't even started yet.

* * *

"Sit," he tells her, handing over the mug of tea and pointing to the bed.

She takes the tea and settles down near the foot, facing him, but leaving plenty of space between them. He looks as if he's about to protest and then he closes his mouth and sits down himself, leaning back against the headboard, exactly where she left him when she walked out.

"Pillow," he offers, handing her one from what was very briefly '_her_' side of the bed.

"No, I…" mumbles Kate, holding up a hand to stop him.

But he silences her with a frustrated, "Just take the pillow."

"Fine," she huffs, dumping it in her own lap, using it as part shield and part small table to rest her teacup filled hands upon.

"So…" says Kate eventually, when Castle sits back quietly to watch her and drink his own tea, no immediate discussion in the offing, "…this is awkward."

She vaguely wonders if this is some new interrogation technique he's trying out on her – get her to spill her guts by silently staring at her until she can't take the close scrutiny anymore. She knows he's been reading some tradecraft handbook recently, penned by a former CIA agent, so she wouldn't put it past him.

"Awkward? Is that what you'd call it?" he spits, obviously more furious with her than she's given him credit for.

"Why? What would you call it?" she asks, trying to get the lie of the land.

He glances up from his mug to stare straight at her, honest, piercing blue eyes boring into hers.

_Heartbreaking._

"Words you're clearly not ready to hear," he tells her, enigmatically.

"Such as?" she demands.

"Stop it, Kate. Just…_stop_," he hisses, balling up one fist and thumping it against the mattress.

"Stop it? _You_ started it," she retaliates, hating every second of this.

"_Me?_ No. Na-huh. I am _not_ taking the blame for this," he insists, vehemently shaking his head.

"You were the one who wanted to talk," she points out, raising her own voice a little.

"And _you_ were the one who wanted to _fu_— _Alexis!_" he exclaims, halting his rant just in time, when the redhead pops her head around the door after apparently knocking for several seconds. "What are you doing up?"

"I heard voices," she replies sleepily. "Is everything okay?"

"Sorry," offers Kate, staring at Castle and then swiveling round to look at his daughter. "I couldn't sleep. Your dad was just…he was keeping me company."

"Go back to bed, pumpkin," Castle tells her, nodding to back up what Kate's just said.

"But you'll be here in the morning?" asks Alexis, ignoring her dad and focusing all her attention on Kate.

Kate glances back at Castle again; her look more troubled this time.

"She'll be here, honey. Now, go to bed. You have school in the morning," he reminds her.

Alexis watches the two of them for a couple of seconds more, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, picking up on the tense atmosphere even in her sleepy state. But then she finally backs out of the room, waving to them both on her way back to bed.

* * *

"This is so far over the line," complains Kate, the second Alexis is gone, dropping her head into one hand and then running her fingers through her hair in quiet desperation. "Why did you promise her I'd stay?"

"Because you can't very well leave in the middle of the night with nowhere to go. And because she wants you here."

"And what about _you, Rick?_" asks Kate, lowering her voice and sipping her tea, passion and anger still simmering beneath the surface. If he can push then so can she. "What do _you_ want?"

He is right about one thing – she did push him earlier. He wanted to stop, to preserve their friendship, and she talked him into having sex with her. Hell, she all but promised him they could be both friends and lovers, and now it looks like she lied for a quick roll in the hay. No wonder he's pissed at her. But she got scared – of her own feelings, of his. He looked like, and he sure as hell felt like, he loved her. In that moment, when he moved inside of her, the way he touched her, the deep emotion in his kisses, his quiet, unhurried tenderness; all of that scared the hell out of her because she's not sure she's good enough for this – to make him happy. And now his daughter has entered the equation too.

She watches him think about his answer through a cloud of fragrant steam, his features blurred by tiredness and the filmy haze of condensation rising from her cup.

"Why did you run?" he asks out of the blue, instead of answering her question.

"Castle…" she warns, shifting uncomfortably on the bed.

"Tell me why you ran, Kate," he persists.

"I…I really don't want to talk about this," she replies, almost pleading with him to stop.

"You seemed pretty happy to talk me into sleeping with you. Not too shy then," he adds with some vitriol. "Why can't we have both, you said. Friends _and_ lovers. Or are you going to tell me that was just the wine talking?" he throws out, dumping his mug on the nightstand with an angry clatter, getting up off the bed to pace again.

Kate sits quietly, chastened, drinking her tea and trying not to choke on it, while he paces the floor around her; a long circuitous loop down one side, along the bottom and up the other side, somewhat ironically tracing the shape of a smile in a kid's rudimentary happy-face drawing.

* * *

"Please stop. You're making me dizzy," she says eventually, when he shows no sign of letting up on the caged animal routine.

"You wanted me, Kate. Tonight. You _wanted me_. Deny it all you like. To me. To yourself. I don't care. But I _know_ what I felt. And now you're running away," he says, with some disgust, turning his back on her.

But then he abruptly turns round to face her again and continues to vent.

"You know, I thought you were many things. But a coward was never one of them."

"I'm not a coward," she insists indignantly, stunned by how frank he's being.

"Oh yeah? Then prove it to me," he challenges.

She looks down at her hands and waits him out, hoping he'll back down. Only he doesn't.

"Okay, so maybe…maybe this…this _development_ came a little out of the blue. It's a shock. I get that. Needs a bit of adjustment to get your head around. _That_ I understand. But maybe it the start of something. Maybe it's the start of something _amazing_ between us, Kate. You ever think about that?" he asks her, a note of wonder and hope in his voice.

Kate finds herself wanting to believe him, wanting to buy into this image he seems to hold more strongly in his mind of how this might work between them, far stronger an image than any she can conjure up right now. She still feels weak and unequal to the task of creating a happy future for the two of them.

When she says nothing to his hopeful statement, he takes it as a negative sign, and his tone changes to one of threatening.

"But if you walk away from this now, Kate, I promise you I'm not gonna stick around to watch while you date other guys and kid yourself that you're happy or at least better off without me."

She feels desperate after these words. She doesn't want to lose him. She doesn't want to hurt him or reject him. She's just scared that she doesn't have what it takes to make a successful relationship with anyone, let alone him - her shadow with the complex past.

"Why are you so sure that anything between us would work? _Why?_" she asks fervently, sounding as if she might actually want him to talk her into this. Might _need_ him to talk her into this.

* * *

Castle stops pacing and comes over to sit on the edge of the bed, closer than before, but still far enough away to give her space. There's a subtle change in her tone and his face and voice betray the hope this gives him – a chink of light to head towards through the darkness.

"Why are you so sure it wouldn't? If you want something badly enough you _make_ it work. So we're different. We're both head strong, independent…"

"_Annoying_," chips in Kate, with a sudden shy grin.

Castle shakes his head, matching her smile with some surprise.

"No, I would never have called you annoying. _Infuriating_, definitely. _Challenging_, maybe. But never annoying."

"I meant you," she grins, feeling her cheeks heat up in the face of this rapid thaw that is instantly leading them to flirt with one another again.

What chance do they have other than to stay apart? Together they can't seem to stop themselves from doing this anymore. Does she really want them to stay apart?

"I know you meant me," concedes Castle quietly, eyes twinkling at her teasing.

He grabs a pillow from behind him and dumps it in his own lap, giving it a hearty thump and taking a little timeout to gather himself.

"Look at us, Kate," he says eventually, glancing up at her. "Even when we're fighting we're adorable. Can we at least try? We owe it to the gods of fate to try, Beckett," he whines theatrically, picking exactly the right moment to be charming.

"Oh," nods Kate with an exaggerated movement of her head, "the gods of fate. You should have said. Who could deny them?" she jokes, dipping her head bashfully and then looking up to find Castle staring at her when she laughs at the ridiculousness of his argument; just so typically Castle.

* * *

They watch one another for the longest time, and Kate feels her heart swell at what he's done for them tonight, for her; at how hard he's fighting for them after she all but humiliated him by leaving his bed and rejecting him so bluntly at the one moment when they should have felt closest to one another.

"I'm not saying I'll be any good at this," she tells him quietly, reaching out to squeeze his hand and then withdrawing again.

"I didn't ask you to. Look at my track record. I'm not making any promises either."

"So where does that leave us?"

"With an agreement to try to make this work," he suggests.

"This?" she asks, to clarify what they're agreeing to.

"Us," he replies, not giving her an inch to back away from this, as he pins her with his gaze. No more hiding or talking in riddles. No more running.

"You really think we can do it? Work together and…"

"Sleep together?" he asks with a slow, predatory grin.

"Yeah, that," says Kate, her cheeks flushing uncontrollably in a way that she hates.

"Why, Detective, I do believe you're blushing," teases Castle, tilting his head to catch her eye, enjoying her discomfort immensely.

"Shut up," laughs Kate, picking up the pillow he gave her and tossing it at him.

He ducks and the heavy down-filled pillow hits the headboard, harmlessly dropping onto the floor, leaving them grinning at one another like idiots.

"Give me that," he tells her, leaning forward to take her mug from her hand, placing it beside his own on the nightstand. "We don't want any accidents. Sleeping on a damp mattress is no fun."

"There's always the other side of the bed," offers Kate, cheekily.

"Could get a little cramped over there with both of us huddled up on your side."

"_My side?_ You think I'm going to be sleeping in here tonight? With you?" she asks coyly.

"Where else would you sleep?" he grins.

"Eh…the _guest room_," replies Kate, as if that's the most obvious answer in the world and he's the village idiot.

"Nah. Don't think so," says Castle, shaking his head dismissively.

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm not there," he replies simply, getting out of bed and walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

* * *

Kate remains sitting where she is for a minute or two, listening to the sound of running water in the bathroom, accompanied by the quiet hum of Castle's electric toothbrush, wondering what the hell just happened; how he managed to turn this disaster around so fast.

When Castle comes out of the bathroom, he finds Kate tucked up under the covers on her side of the bed, reading a magazine as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

He pauses for a second in the doorway of the en suite, silhouetted by the white light from behind, just to watch her, and then he switches off the lights and walks round to his own side of the bed to climb in beside her.

* * *

_A/N: Probably one more to go on this one. Appreciate any thoughts or feedback you have to give. Liv_


	8. Chapter 8 - Resolution

_A/N: Massive thank you for all the lovely reviews. Onwards dear friends with the next chapter as our newly minted couple talk it out…_

* * *

"_It don't matter where we go_

_We'll never be alone_

_Anywhere besides you_

_Is a place that I'll call home"_

_**-Kacey Musgraves**__, "My House"_

* * *

_**Chapter 8 – Resolution**_

_Previously…_

_"Where else would you sleep?" he grins._

_"Eh…the guest room," replies Kate, as if that's the most obvious answer in the world and he's the village idiot._

_"Nah. Don't think so," says Castle, shaking his head dismissively._

_"And why is that?"_

_"Because I'm not there," he replies simply, getting out of bed and walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth._

_Kate remains sitting where she is for a minute or two, listening to the sound of running water in the bathroom, accompanied by the quiet hum of Castle's electric toothbrush, wondering what the hell just happened; how he managed to turn this disaster around so fast._

_When Castle comes out of the bathroom, he finds Kate tucked up under the covers on her side of the bed, reading a magazine as if it's the most natural thing in the world._

_He pauses for a second in the doorway of the en suite, silhouetted by the white light from behind, just to watch her, and then he switches off the lights and walks round to his own side of the bed and climbs in beside her._

* * *

Castle arranges himself a little tentatively under the covers, fluffing the duvet and straightening it out across his lap, turning his fussing into some kind of epic production, taking way more time and care than necessary to settle in.

Kate smiles quietly to herself, realizing with amusement that _he's_ the nervous one now, and this knowledge bolsters her own confidence a lot.

He reaches over to pick up his book from the nightstand and cracks open the spine, throwing surreptitious glances Kate's way every few seconds, while she continues to pretend to be reading the magazine that's lying in her lap. When he clears his throat for the third time in less than a minute, she gives in, closes the magazine and puts it aside before turning to him and taking the book from his hands.

"What…? You finished reading?" he asks, startled and looking just a little afraid.

Kate smiles and leans in to kiss is jaw, brushing her lips slowly over the rough coating of scruff that darkens his skin, until the tender flesh of her lips begins to tingle and she has to press them together to alleviate the ticklish sensation. She nudges her nose into his cheek and kisses the side of his mouth, curling her fingers around his jaw to toy with his ear while she holds him close to her for a few seconds more.

* * *

"I owe you an apology, Castle," she whispers against his skin, feeling him relax against her with a long, relieved exhale. "Thank you for fixing the mess I made of everything."

"Thank _you_ for listening. For giving this a chance," he tells her, seriously.

Kate nods slowly, before turning away to switch off her bedside lamp and indicating for him to scooch down the bed with her by tugging on his arm. Once they're both lying flat, she rolls onto her side to face him. The only light left in the room is the faint neon city glow coming in through the open shutters, and Kate feels more comfortable talking here, mostly shrouded in darkness. It feels warm and safe and she thinks she could tell him almost anything right now if it would help to get them back on track.

"I was scared before," she admits, her voice a quiet hum in the dark.

"Scared? Why? Of what?" asks Castle, rolling over to face her too.

"Of you," she confesses lightly.

"_Me?_" he asks, puzzled.

"Mmm-hmm," she hums, admitting, "Sounds strange, doesn't it?"

"Massive understatement, Beckett," he declares, utterly intrigued by her statement.

Kate laughs, laying her forehead on his warm, t-shirt clad chest for a second.

Castle slides his arm around her to put a hand on her back and hold her there. She gives in and relaxes against him instead of following her initial urge to pull away and create some space between them. This is difficult, but she wants to do it: to push herself to be in this with him.

"I… Castle, this is hard to say. For me," she adds, turning to rub her cheek against the worn cotton of his shirt over and over, self-soothing.

"Try me," he tells her, stroking her back to relax and encourage her.

"You seem…"

Kate sighs and bites her lip, screwing up her face with the effort it takes to force these words past her own lips.

"Just say it, Kate. I won't judge, I promise."

She takes a breath and he feels her ribcage expand under his hand, her spine bowing with the intake of air.

"I felt as if you…that you were much deeper into this already…_emotionally_ than me. As if I wasn't quite there yet. Not your equal. It's as if you've moved on ahead and left me behind," she struggles to explain.

"Go on," says Castle, listening to the words and trying to decipher their meaning without pushing her to elucidate anymore directly at this tentative juncture.

"I like you. I do. It's just… What you said about me sleeping with other guys…"

"Kate, that was bullshit and we both…" begins Castle, fervently.

"Shhh," she tells him, silencing him with a press of her finger to his lips. "I hurt you. I understand. Point is I _don't_ do this. Sleeping with you was a big deal for me. I like you, but I'm not good with labels, Castle. The whole language thing for this…"

"That's just words, Kate," he reassures her, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear, taking any chance he can to touch her.

"But it's more than that. We gave in tonight. Let's not kid ourselves. This has been brewing since we met. The attraction between us."

"So what's the problem? That we gave in? You think we're weak? I think we should be happy. That we can make each other happy."

* * *

Kate sighs, frustrated that she's not getting her point across clearly enough. Then she takes another deep breath and tries a more direct approach.

"Earlier tonight, when we were having sex, that wasn't what that was for you."

Castle listens, but doesn't reply right away.

"I don't understand, Kate. But I want to. I do," he adds hurriedly, when he hears her sigh again with a frustration that he's pretty sure is aimed at herself and not at him. "Help me. What did you feel?" he probes gently.

"It felt as if you were making love to me," she confesses, in a tumbling rush of words, swallowing audibly once they're out there. "I felt overwhelmed."

"And that scared you?"

"Sounds pathetic, doesn't it?"

"No. No, not pathetic. We're just on slightly different pages right now. But you'll get there. You're a fast learner," he tells her, kissing the top of her head.

"And you always were a speed reader," she huffs, with a shaky laugh.

"Years of practice," he grins in the dark, and Kate can hear his smile even if she can't see it.

"Misspent youth more like," she counters, grinning when he barks out a laugh at her cheeky remark.

Kate sighs again, stretching her legs further down the bed, slipping one knee between Castle's when she bumps into him, all this touching and close proximity still so new and therefore slightly awkward.

She hesitates before opening up any further, but then she's curious to know, so she gears up to ask more of him.

* * *

"You said that you liked me…before. When I asked you why you were always so nice to me. But it's…it's more than that, isn't it?" she asks, wondering where in hell she's finding the nerve for this.

He pauses before answering, and she waits quietly while he runs his hand up and down her arm, drawing together the answer her brave, astute question deserves.

"I…I think…not to scare you further, but I think that you're probably right about that," he agrees eventually, and though she's grateful that he doesn't come right out and tell her that he loves her on the spot, it is comforting to know that he feels this strongly about her. It's a definite, solid something for them to build on.

"I guessed as much," she tells him, smiling in the dark.

"Was it the creepy staring thing? It was the creepy staring thing, wasn't it?" he jokes, and Kate laughs this time, stretching forward a little to nuzzle into his shoulder while she giggles.

"It was a whole lot of little things. You're not as cool as you think you are, Mr. Castle," she teases, enjoying the ease that has opened up between them just by talking. She makes a mental note to do more of this with him.

"Oh, you wound me, Beckett," clowns Castle, clutching at his chest.

"Yeah, well, I figure your broad shoulders can take it," she reassures him, patting his arm, before lapsing into momentary silence.

"Don't think for a second that it's easy, Kate. Caring so deeply about someone. I'm terrified a lot of the time too."

"Why?"

"Well…" he shrugs. "Just look at what happened tonight," he points out. "What if we hadn't been able to fix it? I meant what I said. I cannot watch you be with anyone else. As hard as that was before, it would be impossible now. So we either make this work or we lose one another all together. Now do you see?"

"Yes. Yes, I can see that," she agrees, leaning into his embrace, welcoming the firmness of his arms around her this time, no thought of running entering her head.

* * *

"Ready to sleep?" asks Castle, when he feels her begin to drift off, her body slackening against his and then suddenly jerking in his arms.

"I'm sorry. It's been a long couple of days," yawns Kate, stretching.

"Don't apologize. You're here. That's more than I could have hoped for a few days ago. Not that I'm saying I'm glad someone blew up your apartment just for this to happen," he tacks on as a hasty addendum.

"I know," acknowledges Kate, turning in Castle's arms so that she can lie on her other side in preparation for sleep.

She snuggles back into him, smiling when he molds himself to her form, his knees drawn up and bent into the hers, the backs of her thighs resting on top of his, his muscular arms wrapped lightly around her torso, one large hand warming her belly.

"Get some sleep and we can talk some more in the morning," he promises, softly kissing her hair.

"You too," she tells him, her voice heavy with sleep, her eyes already fluttering closed in the warmth of his sleepy embrace.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, so I was going to end this here, and then one reviewer, who shall remain anonymous, put a few ideas into my head and bingo! Not done yet. I know y'all are probably rolling you eyes right now, saying, 'Yes, yes, Liv, we know'. But I'm glad you're still with me. Liv_


	9. Chapter 9 - Reality

_A/N: We all have 'msTGR' to thank for the extension to this story. So a big round of applause, please. And now on to another 'M' chapter, this one written from Castle's point of view…_

* * *

"_Say what you feel_

_Love who you love_

_'Cause you just get_

_So many trips 'round the sun_

_Yeah, you only_

_Only live once"_

_**- Kacey Musgraves**__, "Follow Your Arrow"_

* * *

_**Chapter 9 - Reality**_

He knows she'd probably kill him if she ever caught him doing this, but he can't help it. Having her here with him, after all they went through last night – the triumph of finally being with her snatched from his grasp seemingly, until he worked for it, for her, wielding a confidence he'd rarely felt before to fight for what he believed to be right for both of them, and winning. Just a hearing at first, but then a confession and a promise to try from a woman he has so long admired that he could never be certain when that admiration turned into something more.

So he wakes several times during the night, excitement coursing through him, manipulating his dreams, and he takes whole long minutes just to watch her; to witness her chest rise and fall with each untroubled breath, her hair fanned out across the pillow, her forehead smoothed of worry as she sleeps soundly beside him, long dark lashes feathering her cheeks, so youthful and beautiful. And he just stares in wonder.

But now it's morning, and Castle wakes, not to observe a beautiful, peaceful Kate slumbering beside him as he had originally hoped. No, he wakes up to something much better. The tentative, explorative sensation of Kate Beckett's long, slender fingers seeking him out beneath the covers, while her grinning smile presses tiny kisses into his neck and the warm, soft weight of her breast brushes up against his chest. He is being roused – or rather _aroused_ – by his muse, and dammit it feels good.

* * *

"Morning," whispers Kate, kissing his cheek this time, a waft of minty freshness telling him that she has been up already without him hearing a thing. The little ninja minx.

"Morning," he replies gruffly, slowly opening his eyes and blinking. "What time is it?"

"Early. Relax. We have plenty of time," she reassures him.

"We're off the case. Time for what?" asks Castle, as his brain de-fogs and her words filter through to his sleep-numbed brain.

"This," whispers Kate, kissing him fully on the lips while slipping her hand inside his boxers to cup him.

"_Oh jeez!_" exclaims Castle, clutching at her shoulder, feeling his body respond instantly to her touch with an embarrassing, involuntary jerk of his hips against the cool pressure of her hand.

"Too much?" asks Kate, pulling back to look at him.

"No. Never," he croaks. "Never think that. _Ever_. You just…you surprised me. That's all."

"Then my turn for surprises," she says quietly, kissing him again, making a slow, languorous exploration of his mouth - such soft lips - before teasing him with the tip of her tongue.

"Mmm," hums Castle, starting to move his hips in a slow, circular motion between the mattress and Kate's clever hand.

"Nice?" she asks, smiling while she moves away to caress his ear and then suck the flesh of his lobe into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth.

Castle moans in pleasure, hips bucking again at the welter of sensations flooding throughout his body. His _hair_ is tingling, his toes are _curling_; she's going to kill him at this rate. And he loves it.

* * *

"Oh, you are so good at this," he tells her, meaning every word. The way she's touching him is so slow and erotic, but made all the more intense by the simple fact of it being her.

"Little bird tells me you are too."

"Oh really?" he grins, stretching up to chase her mouth. But she pulls away just to tease him, giving in when he slips a hand around the back of her neck and holds her still so that he can get at her.

"Mmm-hmm," she hums, around his interrogating tongue.

"Which little bird might that be?"

"This isn't our first time, remember?" she prompts him.

"What?" he laughs nervously. "So the little bird is _you?_"

"Well, yes. The _old _me," she clarifies.

"The _old_ you? And now this is…?"

"The _new_ me," she nods, saying the words along with him.

"So…how'd that happen? And what's different?"

"We talked, remember? Well, _I _talked and you listened…for a change, can I just add."

"I listen!" he insists, laughing when Kate rolls her eyes at him.

"Oh, please. To the boys maybe or talk radio. Not to me."

"Kate," he tells her, cupping her face in the palm of his hands to still her and make her pay attention to this. "I _listen_. When it's important. I _listen_. Last night was important."

"It was," agrees Kate, nodding thoughtfully. "Helped me a lot to talk through some of that stuff with you. I feel as if I understand a little better where we both stand."

"And where exactly is that?" he asks, lifting her all the way on top of him, so he's lying underneath her and she's sprawled across his chest.

"I thought you said you listened," she grins, silencing him with a long, slow kiss.

"Doesn't hurt to check," he jokes, just over-the-moon delighted to be playing this game, _any game_, with her.

"We're where we're supposed to be. With me on top," she replies, laughing in a startled way when he cups her ass with both hands and squeezes.

"Then I _like_ where we are," he tells her, kissing _her_ this time.

"How'd you sleep?" he asks, when she lays her chin on his chest and then turns her head to one side, listening to his heart.

"Pretty good, considering. You?"

"No nightmares?"

"Not yet. Doesn't mean they won't come. Being here is helping. _You're_ helping. Thank you."

"Are you kidding me? I _love_ having you here," he tells her enthusiastically, and it's a little too serious, a little too truthful, a little too soon. So he deflects for Kate's sake with a joke. "Who wouldn't want to wake up to this?" he asks, nudging her with his hips again.

* * *

"You hungry?" he asks, when she remains silent, her head still resting on his chest.

"Later," she grins, coming alive again on top of him. "_We_ have unfinished business."

"Oh, we do?" he grins. "And what might that be, Miss Beckett?"

"Kind of a do-over. Too _hard_ to explain. Let me show you," she suggests with a predatory grin, slithering her body down over his until her back and shoulders disappear beneath the covers and she tugs his boxers down over his hips as she travels lower.

"Ahhh," sighs Castle, when she takes him in her hand and begins to stroke him, her free hand gripping his bare hipbone, fingers flexing for more purchase when he squirms under her.

"Oh, God," he groans, letting his head fall back onto the pillow in sheer ecstasy when she puts her mouth on him, the roughness of her tongue scraping over the sensitive skin of the rounded, fleshy tip, smearing the glassy bead of juice that has gathered there around the head, while he grips the sheets to stop himself from going insane.

"Kate," he hisses, when her jaws go wide, and he uses all the strength in his core to arch up just to watch her take him into her mouth for the first time, his eyes watering at the undeniable beauty of what she's doing to him; the unimagined detail of this moment that bares no comparison to his own poorly constructed fantasies.

He knows now that he's in love with her. How could he not be? She's gorgeous, she's vulnerable, she's here with him, pleasuring him, wanting, willing, and in the space of a few hours they've already overcome so much to get to this point. Mostly because she was willing to work to catch up with him, despite being scared enough to admit her weakness to him. But also because they make a good team when all is said and done.

They make one hell of a team.

* * *

Kate gently presses him back onto the bed with the flat of her palm against his stomach, while she strokes him with her other hand, smiling to herself at the string of curses that issue from his lips while he works hard to stop himself bucking against her in an unseemly, embarrassing teenage display of arousal that would demonstrate little manly self-restraint.

When he can take it no more, the pleasure too great, his need for her overwhelming everything else, he gently palms the back of her head to get her attention and then he hooks her under her arms and lifts her back up on top of him.

"You okay?" she asks, wiping her mouth of the back of her hand.

Castle crushes her to him in a bruising kiss, pouring everything he's feeling into it, afraid to tell her the words, but not afraid to show her. He tastes himself, the evidence of his own arousal, on her lips and it tips him over the edge.

"Need you," he growls, lifting her t-shirt over her head and throwing it over the side of the bed.

A beam of sunlight crests the roofline of a low-rise building nearby and spills out across the bedroom floor, highlighting the dust bunnies that have gathered on the shiny hardwood. The room begins to warm, and Castle feels the sun caressing Kate's back, warming everywhere he touches.

She pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it off towards the corner of the room and then she shimmies out of her own panties, having taken off her sweats at some point during the night.

When they're both naked, Castle draws Kate down on top of him again, eager just to feel her lithe body pressed up against his, skin-to-skin, even for a moment. He's trying to be mindful of what she told him last night – about how he made love to her their first time and it scared her – so he keeps the moment brief, allowing his masculinity to take over, allowing lust to drive him, instead of love, for now.

* * *

"Slower," gasps Kate, when his kisses become frantic, robbing her of the chance to breathe or think, his hands gripping her firmly, both of them writhing together, though not yet joined.

"Easy. Easy," she repeats, when he spreads her legs wide with his thigh, arching his hips and the hard length of his erection up against her pubic bone, sliding through the slickness near her entrance.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks, with concern.

"No. No, nothing like that," she soothes, kissing him gently to settle him down. "Let's just take it slow this time," she suggests, watching a shadow of confusion passing over his face at this request. "_New me_," she whispers, by way of explanation, and he nods, though a frown still creases his forehead.

When she guides him inside of her, Castle cries out, the guttural sound catching in his throat, his fingertips pressing into the soft curve of her hips, bruising in their desperate pressure.

"Oh, Kate," he shudders, thrusting into her and then shaking while he holds her over him, sheathed all the way inside of her glorious body.

He sees her watching him, the intensity in her eyes laced with a new softness - an openness he hasn't witnessed from her before.

He begins to move, finding a rhythm they can work with, quickly speeding and building when he feels how turned on she is, how aroused, letting himself off the leash too, since he still believes that this is what she wants – sex, uncomplicated by emotion.

So he's surprised when she drapes herself over his chest, making contact with the entire length of his body, needing to be close to him it would seem, nuzzling into him in a way that amazes him. She brushes his damp neck with her lips, kissing away an errant bead of sweat that settles in the dip beneath his throat, and then she whispers into his ear.

"Castle, slow down."

"You want to go slower?" he asks, checking he heard her correctly.

"Please. Yes. Slower. I want you to make love to me," she tells him, kissing the side of his eye where the skin crinkles up when he smiles.

He pulls back to look at her, to make certain he heard right, and she nods, her pink, swollen lips curving into a smile, her eyes dazzling.

While he's off his guard, Kate flips them over so that she is on her back and he's the one on top, and Castle laughs, breaking the tension of a moment ago, but still in awe of her.

"You're sure?" he asks, and Kate nods again, her grin widening. "You...you want me to make love to you, Beckett?" he grins back, darting his tongue out to steal a hungry kiss that takes her breath away.

"That's what I said," she replies bashfully, pressing her forehead against his to hide her face, playfully nudging his nose with her own, before adding more boldly, "Thought you said you listened to the important stuff."

"Just checking," he tells her, leaning down to kiss her again, before raising her arms high above her head and holding them in place against the stack of pillows, watching with amazement as she gives complete control over to him.

* * *

And it's so different from their first time. So utterly different for both of them.

Her trust in him is total, evidenced by the way she gives her whole self to him; lets him set the pace, touch her freely, soothe her, tease her, love her, work her body over until she is singing and sighing with pleasure. His kisses are slow and reverent, full of heart and desire. Her hair, her body, her skin has never been touched quite like this. He worships her breasts with his hands and his mouth. She cries out when he sucks her nipples over and over, her core throbbing in time with the slide of his hard body in and out of hers and the relentless, hungry pressure of his tongue.

They connect without words, they hum and they moan together, chanting a mellifluous melody of sounds and syllables that sometimes sound like their names and sometimes just make happy, honeyed, nothing words of love and joy that charm their ears. There is no push and pull this time, only two people working together to bring exquisite, selfless pleasure to one another.

Kate's long legs are wrapped high around Castle's back as they near the end. Their pace has quickened by mutual consent, _her_ urging, _his_ growing need, their breathing short and snatched between kisses that tear at their lips and their hearts.

"You're amazing," pants Castle, holding her to him as he drives into her, his mouth open at her ear, her lips pressed to his shoulder, warm air swirling around their overheated bodies with every frantic thrust.

"Let go," she whispers eventually, grasping his buttocks to guide him into her with silent desperation, again and again.

"Not without you," declares Castle, slowing a fraction.

"I'm right with you," she reassures him, gripping him again, her body grinding every bright, vibrating ounce of pleasure she can find to take from his. "Let go," she repeats, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his neck as tears run down her face.

* * *

When they climax - a shuddering, stuttering, inelegant halt to their smooth rhythmic movement that leaves them holding onto one another for fear of flying into a million tiny pieces - both have to bury their faces into one's another's necks to prevent themselves from crying aloud.

It's beautiful and terrifying at the same time – the intensity, the earthly abandon, the thrilling sensation of vanishing into an limitless vista of pure white light and shattering, noiseless fear, that leaves them spent and panting in a tangled heap of long limbs on Castle's bed.

"You amaze me," whispers Castle, when he can gasp out a few words.

"Finally," laughs Kate, stretching up to find his mouth.

"No, _always_," he tells her, holding her chin so that she looks at him to see that he means it.

"Hey, no tears," he tells her, wiping away the glistening tracks with his thumb.

"_New me_," she tells him. "Happy tears."

"Good," he replies, gently withdrawing and rolling onto his back beside her.

They lie that way for a long time, coasting in comfortable silence. Castle fumbles beneath the covers until he finds Kate's hand, grasping it loosely in his own, keeping them connected to one another as they drift in the quiet of the loft, listening to SoHo come alive beneath them in the streets down below.

* * *

His slow, rhythmic breathing is what tells Kate that the writer has finally fallen asleep. And she turns to admire him – this beautiful, funny, kind, unselfish man she believes herself to be falling in love with – and then she rises from his bed to explore this brave new world they are entering together.

* * *

_A/N: Think we'll probably finish on chapter 10 for completeness. Running out of lovely songs by Kacey Musgraves. :D Liv_


	10. Chapter 10 - Brave New World

_A/N: And so we reach the end of the line on this story – BlueOrchid96's birthday fic. This has been such a pleasure to write and I am so grateful for all of the amazing feedback this story generated. 'S2 longing' is quite the inspiration, and I know it got a few people through some very tough times. AWM, we salute you._

* * *

"_Sometimes good intentions _

_don't come across so well_

_Get me anazlying everything _

_that aint worth thinkin' 'bout._

_Just 'cause I ain't lived through_

_the same hand that was dealt to you _

_doesn't make me any less _

_or make any more of you._

_I wouldn't trade my best day_

_so you could validate_

_all your fears _

_and if I've only got one shot _

_won't waste it on a shadow box _

_I'll stand right here"_

_**-Kacey Musgraves**__, 'Undermine'_

* * *

_**Chapter 10 – Brave New World**_

_Before a deep, satisfied, post-coital sleep carried him off to dreamland for an extra hour in bed, Castle plucked up the courage to address the thorny issue of Kate's living arrangements…_

"Can we talk about something for a second?" he asks her, turning his head to look at her, his hair whispering across the pillow as he does so, sweat still drying on his flushed skin.

"Sounds ominous," replies Kate, worry momentarily crossing her face.

"Last night," he begins, squeezing her hand and giving her a wan smile, because it looks like whatever is coming next might be important to him.

"What about last night?" asks Kate, warily, hoping they'd got past all the drama and unpleasantness to begin afresh this morning.

"I want you to stay here, Kate," he rushes out without further preamble.

"_Okaaay_," says Kate, slowly, waiting for more.

"So that's a yes?" he asks, excitedly.

"No, that's a 'tell me more'."

He sighs and then takes another breath to prepare for the next phase of his argument.

"Last night, you...you said that you were leaving today. That you were going to find somewhere else to live. I don't want you to go. I want you to stay. Here. With me."

"Castle, I'm not moving in with you," she tells him immediately.

Because she knows him. He is insistent and pushy, and when he's determined to have something she knows he'll only grind her down until she gives in, and this is _not_ a point to give in on. Not yet, at least. She has to set some ground rules before this situation gets out of hand.

"I'm not asking you to. But you don't have a place, and there'll be the insurance company to deal with and realtors. Let me help you with that. Not to mention you'll be far safer here. Plus we already promised the Captain, and Alexis really, _really_ wants you to stay and…"

"_Halt!_ Back up a second," she insists, holding up a hand to shut him up before he invokes her dad into the middle of this high-pressure sales presenation too.

Castle does as asked for once and falls silent to listen to her.

"In that case, I am going to ask _you_ the same question I asked you last night. What about _you_, Rick? What do _you_ want?"

"I'm the one doing the asking," he reminds her, as if it should be perfectly plain what he wants.

"No. Seems to me you're using everyone else, Alexis and Montgomery included, to do your asking for you. Tell me what _you _want. In your own words."

"I want you here…_with me_. But, I might be hiding behind all those other reasons because I'm worried that if the request comes from me then you'll turn it down flat," he confesses, displaying yet again how well he knows her. "There. How's that for honest?"

"Pretty spot on, I'd say. And I appreciate your honesty. I do," Kate assures him.

"So? What do you say?" he pushes for an answer.

"I'm _not_ moving in with you, Castle. We just got together. This is…_huge_ for us."

"Agreed. So…stay in the guest room if it'll make you more comfortable. Just…don't go yet, Beckett. Please?" he whines, clutching at her hand in a way that kind of melts her heart.

"You really want me to stay that badly?" she asks, frowning at his endearing pout.

He nods vigorously. "_Yes._"

"Guest room you say?"

"If you must," he sighs, sulking just a little. "But, yes, if it's a deal breaker."

"_Well_, it is true that I have nowhere else to go. And you _are_ helping me deal with things. Like sleeping, for example," she acknowledges, trying to suppress a ridiculous grin before he can see it. "Only problem is…"

"What? _Name it_ and I will _fix it_," he promises, fervently.

"How can you help me sleep if I'm all the way upstairs in the guest room?" she grins, watching a smile like a brilliant ray of sunshine break out across Castle's face.

"So you'll stay?" he beams, holding his breath.

"I'll think about it," promises Kate, smiling back at him, pretty helpless to resist this charming, adorable version of Richard Castle.

"You won't regret it," he replies, definitively, as if it's already a done deal.

"I said I'd _think_ about it, Castle," she reminds him, nudging him in the side.

"She's staying," he whispers to the elephant on the wall, punching the air in triumph while Kate laughs beside him, slowly shaking her head and wondering what the heck she just got herself into.

"What about your mother? And Alexis?"

"I already evicted my mother. But if you want me to evict Alexis too? It _is_ probably time she went out on her own," he pretends to muse, with a silly grin.

"Be serious for a second," chides Kate.

"Alexis wants you here. My mother loves you, Beckett. Relax."

"But what do we tell them?" she asks, looking nervous about approaching the whole subject.

"Whatever you want. What do you want to tell them?"

"What do _you_ want to tell them? They're _your_ family."

"How about…Beckett and I just had the most mind-blowing sex of our lives last night," he suggests, flinching when she elbows him in the ribs. "Too much?"

Kate sobers up and thinks for a second before answering, staring up at the ceiling for inspiration.

"Okay. How about this," she swallows, and turns onto her side to face him. "Alexis. Martha. We have something to tell you. Your dad and I are dating?"

"I know my mother looks youthful for her age. But, in case you've forgotten, Martha _isn't _my daughter," Castle jokes, squealing, "Ahhh! Vicious, Beckett," when she pinches him hard.

"Castle, if you're not going to be serious about this, I'm moving out."

"Ah-ha! So that means you've already moved in."

"Are you going to be this infuriating the whole time if I do stay?"

"How would you like me to be?" he asks, trying to look sincere.

"Sane, for starters."

"Look. You need to calm down. Mother and Alexis are going to be thrilled for us. Whatever words we use…Kate, it doesn't matter. Just to hear you say that we're dating…"

"What?" asks Kate, looking at him suspiciously, waiting for yet another joke.

"No. Nothing," he shakes his head, smiling quietly to himself.

"No. _Not_ nothing. Come on. Tell me? What about us dating?"

"I just…" he shrugs. "It's like a dream, Kate. Having you here. _Willingly_," he laughs.

"What, you thought you'd have to cuff me?" she jokes back, chuckling, her gaze softening when she sees the wistful look in his eyes.

"I just never imagined it would be this good, this easy, so early on. In fact, I don't think I really believed we'd get here at all. So, like I said before, you amaze me, Kate Beckett. All the time," he adds, failing to stifle a yawn.

"Hey," replies Kate, nudging the yawning writer playfully, "feeling's mutual, old man."

They lapse into silence. His slow, rhythmic breathing is what tells Kate that the writer has finally fallen asleep. And she turns to admire him – this beautiful, funny, kind, unselfish man she believes herself to be falling in love with – and then she rises from his bed to explore this brave new world they are entering together.

* * *

After dressing quickly in leggings and a t-shirt, and then standing for what feels like five whole minutes just watching the sleeping man who was her tag-along until yesterday, and who, overnight, has apparently become her boyfriend, Kate pads out towards the kitchen to take a look around.

The loft is so quiet. Here, at the top of the building, there are no neighbors to worry about. No Mrs. Ramos clattering across the ceiling in four-inch stilettos at stupid-o'clock, and no young Eddie Jones through the adjoining wall, playing The Cure's 'Pictures of You' on repeat at full volume in a fit of teenage angst that he seems loath to grow out of. No, here, there is only blissful silence, while Alexis slumbers upstairs and Castle catches up on some much-needed rest.

Kate fills the kettle to make tea and then abandons that idea in favor of figuring out Castle's tricked-out coffee machine. It hits her now and again, at odd moments, that her home is gone. But what she has here – the offer of a new home for however long she wants it, with boyfriend and family suddenly thrown in - goes a long way to make up for any pangs she feels over that loss, as she works her way around his unfamiliar kitchen, searching out coffee beans, spoons and mugs.

He's given her so much in the last year and a half – his time, his light, his humor, his endless support, his intellect, his crazy theories and annoying habits, sure. But also his loyalty and his dogged patience, his heart and courage, and, it is with a chill sometimes that she realizes he is already prepared to protect her with his life. There is very little not to love about this man. If loving were what she were after in this brave new world of hers.

* * *

She sits quietly at his kitchen counter, hugging the mug of coffee to her chest, while she scribbles out a list of essentials she needs to buy to begin rebuilding her closet and make a start on replacing some of her lost possessions. Decent lingerie makes an appearance pretty high up on that list, if she's going to be sharing a home and a bed with Richard Castle for the foreseeable future.

She only realizes that she's smiling when she looks up and catches her own reflection in the glass door of his oven. She's smiling like a woman in love, and she's not so sure that the slightly distorted reflection looking back at her is lying to her. He's stolen another piece of her, and instead of missing it, she feels filled in; more whole than she's felt in a long time.

Coffee finished, she hops down off the stool with renewed purpose, deciding to surprise her hosts with breakfast.

She's busy plating up crispy bacon and dishing out scrambled eggs from the pan ten minutes later, when the front door flies open and a very colorful, very cheerful Martha Rodgers appears in the entranceway. She's dressed in an aqua raincoat, the vibrant turquoise hue clashing spectacularly with her not-seen-in-nature shade of red hair and pink leather gloves.

Kate feels like a rabbit caught in the proverbial headlights. Everything she and Castle have talked about – 'I'm dating your son' – all these carefully prepared words just vacate her brain in one great guilt-induced rush when unexpectedly confronted by the man's somewhat arresting mother.

"_Martha!_" she exclaims, followed closely by, "I'm here on orders from the FBI."

She could smack her own mouth for that one.

"Darling, I'm hardly one to judge," replies Castle's mother, sounding as if she doesn't believe a word of this explanation, while giving her a warm, friendly smile and an airy, dismissive wave of her shocking pink gloves.

Kate finds it hard to return to the prepared script she and Castle hashed out in bed this morning, without him by her side. So she nervously resorts to over-explaining her presence in the loft.

"I'm sorry, I wouldn't impose. But my place is..."

"Ashes. No, I know," Martha tells Kate, grinning when she adds throatily, "Well, that explains the pat-down by the hunky guy with the ear bud. I assumed it was Richard making a dramatic statement about the conditions for my dropping by unannounced."

Kate laughs, some of her nerves dropping away in the face of Martha's welcoming warmth and good humor.

"Would…would you like some coffee?" she tentatively asks the older woman, lifting up the fresh pot and wafting it in Martha's direction.

"You know, I think that might be just what the doctor ordered. Late night," Martha tells her, and Kate catches a slight hesitation just before she replies, realizing that Castle's mother just read her as well as any detective, and she already knows that something is up.

* * *

When they're both seated opposite one another, quietly sipping their coffee, Martha waits for Kate to bring up whatever is troubling her. And Kate finds, that for all the woman's natural exuberance, she has a gentle, patient streak, and she is grateful not to be pushed, to be able to take her own time with this.

"Martha, can I tell you something?" she finally asks, glancing up to find the writer's mother already waiting for her to speak.

"Of course, dear. You can tell me anything," she reassures her, with a motherly pat to the hand, before leaning in and lowering her voice to a tone of conspiratorial compassion. "Is Richard driving you crazy already? Because I find ear plugs can be a great help in that department," she winks, sympathetically.

"Eh," Kate smiles, awkwardly. "Not exactly what I was going to say, although those words…"

Kate blushes and tails off, realizing that she's going about this all the wrong way. He _is_ driving her crazy – with his mouth and his hands and, oh god, _that tongue!_ But his mother doesn't need to know any of those details.

"Darling, what is it? You look…_radiant_ this morning, if I may say. Positively _g__lowing_ with good health," she chirps.

"Thank you, Martha," replies Kate, ducking her head bashfully at the compliment while she searches for the right words to explain to the woman that her successful, famous, millionaire son is now dating a humble homicide detective.

"Castle and I…that is, _Richard_," smiles Kate tightly, dipping her head in deference to Martha's position as his mother. "We…we reached an _understanding_ last night," says Kate, frowning at her own bizarre choice of words the second they are out of her mouth.

"An understanding?" repeats Martha, smiling pleasantly.

But before Kate can elucidate any further, the older woman adds, "In my day we just called it _dating_, dear."

When she catches her own reflection in the oven door this time, Kate looks dumbstruck. Maybe the mindreading thing is genetic, she finds herself wondering.

"You…? But I didn't say anything about dating," says Kate, mystified by the seemingly flighty woman's powers of perception.

"Kate, darling," Martha purrs, "you and my son have a special bond. Amazing chemistry. Anyone can see that. And other than Alexis and his writing, I've never seen him remain as dedicated to anything in his life as he has been to you."

"So, you're okay with it?" asks Kate, biting her lip nervously.

"_Okay?_ Darling, I'm thrilled for you both. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. I'm just a cop," shrugs Kate, exposing some of the insecurity she sometimes feels when she wishes she'd stayed on track and aimed higher after her mother's death.

"You are more than your job, Kate. _So much more_. And, so long as he manages to avoid writer's block, my son is just a mystery writer. You should value yourself more highly, my dear. He cares deeply for you. And anyone who captures that boy's heart is a special person indeed."

"Thank you, Martha," says Kate, nodding her appreciation.

"Have you thought about how you're going to tell Alexis?" asks Martha, tilting her head to watch Kate's reaction.

"We actually intended to tell you both together," admits Kate, and she can see that Martha is impressed that they've discussed the issue already. "This…" says Kate, waving her hand between them, "wasn't really in the plan."

"Would you like _me_ to tell her?" offers the older woman, meaning well.

"Thank you for the offer. But, I think this is something Castle and I should tackle together," she replies, impressing Martha even more.

"Well, you just let me know if I can be of any help. I have a whole supply of ear plugs upstairs if you ever need them," she jokes, laughing fondly with Kate.

"On that point," begins Kate, broaching yet another awkward subject. "Castle has asked me to stay here for a while. Until I find somewhere suitable to move into," she adds swiftly. "I just thought you should know."

"I appreciate you telling me all of this, Kate. But that is your business. Yours and Richard's. I won't be interfering. Please know that," she reassures Kate.

* * *

Kate is in the process of squeezing Martha's hand in thanks when a commotion erupts from the direction of Castle's bedroom.

"I just woke up and literally smelled the coffee. _And the bacon_!" he exclaims, yawning loudly and stretching, his eyes adorably puffy, his hair rumpled. "Dropping by to return your key?" he teases his mother, leaning down to give her a kiss.

"Very funny, very funny," beams Martha. "No, I am looking for my aqua gloves because these clash," she explains, waving the pink ones for her son to see.

Castle reaches for a slice of bacon and Kate smacks his hand away with the back of a pan, giving him a reproving glance that his mother doesn't miss and highly approves of.

Martha gives Castle a mischievous, twinkling look, while Kate resumes plating up their breakfast.

"Well, she cooks,", she points out proudly, as if selling Kate's talents to her son.

Castle gives his mother a slow, deliberate smile that melts the woman's heart, and then he rounds the counter, surprising Kate by wrapping his arms around her from behind and pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck, just below her ponytail.

"Actually, she does a lot more than cook," he informs his mother, with a smirk.

Kate is momentarily horrified, and she shrugs Castle off, turning to give him a look that would set him alight if he weren't already on fire just from touching her.

Martha laughs, getting her own back on her son when she surprises him by how much she already knows.

"So I hear," she says drolly, lifting a strawberry out of the bowl of fruit Kate has prepared and popping it into her mouth.

Kate recovers quickly enough to steer the conversation away from their combined talents in the bedroom.

"Actually, my mom was an amazing cook," she tells them both. "She used to make Sunday brunch, and I would get the choice between pancakes, omelets, waffles..."

Castle comes back around the counter to give his mother a grateful hug for whatever she's said to Kate in his absence.

"Wow, that's funny," he tells his girlfriend. "Every Sunday my mom would have me make her an ice pack and a Bloody Mary," he quips, kissing Martha on the cheek.

"Don't listen to him," Martha tells Kate, waving her hand dismissively. "That only happened twice. Tops!" she adds, laughing.

* * *

An excited yell from Alexis, as she scampers down the stairs, signifies that the entire Castle-Rodgers-Beckett household is now up and about.

"_Gram!"_ exclaims Castle's daughter, throwing herself at Martha.

"There's my girl. Oh, ho, ho! I missed you!" exclaims Martha, wrapping her granddaughter up in a huge hug.

"I missed you, too," squeals the girl, as they spin round gleefully, clutching one another.

Castle comes to stand behind Kate, and she leans back against him, dropping her head onto his shoulder when he wraps his arms around her.

"You'd think it was months. It's been a day," he whispers in her ear, as they watch the heart-warming moment of deep affection unfold between Martha and Alexis.

"I think it's sweet," says Kate, as the two head back upstairs to Alexis' room, gossiping like sisters.

"I think _you're_ sweet," grins Castle, spinning Kate round so that they're standing face-to-face.

They hold one another, surrounded by the best that life has to offer – family, a warm home and good food.

"_Sweet?_" laughs Kate, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss the writer, her head spinning when he slides his tongue into her mouth and she feels herself go weak at the knees, clutching at his shirt to stay upright.

"First time for everything, Beckett," he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her hair as he tightens his arms around her.

They stand in the kitchen, swaying together, while the world spins by without them, lost in the moment.

Both startle when Kate's cell phone rings, and she sighs, reluctantly easing herself out of Castle's embrace to answer the call.

"Excuse me," she says quietly, squeezing his arm. "Beckett?"

Castle watches her, frantically blowing and fanning his hand in front of his face after he stuffed a large forkful of scalding hot scrambled eggs into his mouth that proves too warm to chew.

"Okay. I'll be right there," says Kate, quickly hanging up the call and turning back to face the writer.

"Castle, that was Agent Avery," she explains, her expression one of extreme concern. "Jordan never made it home last night."

* * *

_A/N: And so we come full circle, after that pleasant little detour, to return to canon. As I said at the start of this chapter, I have cherished every message and been delighted by your overwhelmingly positive response to this 'what if' scenario that was requested by my dear friend, BlueOrchid96. _

_I wish everyone luck for getting through the finale without tears when the time comes. Oh, and I'd urge you to listen to the very talented Kacey Musgraves, if you haven't been inspired to already by the song extracts at the start of each chapter._

_So, as another great journey comes to an end, I'll simply say, Happy Castle Monday, until next time… Liv x_


End file.
